Crush III: Sostenuto
by MissMelysse
Summary: Starting a relationship is easy; maintaining one takes work. This is the 3rd novel-length book in the CRUSHverse. Strong T over all, individual chapters may be M. ***This is a close-canon AU.*** Follows CRUSH II: Ostenato, UNACCOMPANIED: A Suite for Actress & Android, and Bedtime Story. Data/Zoe.
1. Celestial Navigation

**Disclaimer:** This is a blanket disclaimer for the whole story. CBS/Paramount owns _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ , the _U.S.S. Enterprise_ , and all of the canon characters. I'm writing this for love, not money.

 **Continuity Note:** Directly follows the one-shot _Bedtime Story_. See NOTES for more info.

* * *

 **Celestial Navigation**

 **Stardate 46028.07**

 **(Saturday, 11 January 2369, 05:57 hours, ship's time)**

 **Aboard the S/V V _aruna_**

Wind was howling all around me, and I was grateful that I was wearing a harness over my foul-weather gear, and had it clipped to the lifeline, as another massive wave lifted the tiny sailboat I was on, rolling her forward, and then sending her crashing down into a watery trough. Wash, rinse repeat, except that both the 'wash' and 'rinse' bits were with saltwater. The same saltwater had turned my chestnut hair into an itchy, crusty, knot twisted into a semblance of submission on the back of my head, and chapped my lips badly enough that the use of a dermal regenerator would be the first thing I accomplished once I made landfall.

Well, maybe not the first thing. Even salt-chapped lips wouldn't prevent me from giving my boyfriend an enthusiastic greeting when I next saw him.

The wind grew rougher and I reached to crank the sail, reefing it in another notch. There was a flash of lightning, a crash of thunder, and my hand slipped on the crank for a second, but I managed to keep control of it, and stay on my feet.

I was too late in taking in the sail though, because the next gust came at the same time as the next wave, and my little boat was knocked about seventy-five degrees in exactly the wrong direction. Instead of heading into the waves, we – my boat and I - were getting slammed broadside by their force.

The sailboat, the _Varuna_ , pitched and yawed, bucking against my hand on the wheel, and oblivious to the state of the sails. Finally, the ocean prevailed and a wall of water came crashing down on us, making my boat roll sideways. We bounced back upright, but the mast snapped in half in the process. There was no time to settle. The sea was too rough. There was too much water. The waves prevailed, and we rolled.

We _rolled_.

I felt myself floating free from the boat, and had a moment of panic. The leash that led from my harness to the lifeline was meant to keep me from being washed overboard when the boat was upright, but now, with it capsized, I feared I'd be trapped underneath.

We rolled, and just at the point when I was almost out of air we were on top of the waves again, and I landed on the wooden deck, coughing and spluttering.

I pushed myself to my feet as another giant wave was about to slam down on us, but the alarm I'd set began chiming at the same time that a familiar warm tenor voice instructed, "Computer, freeze program."

The wave became a slightly shimmery wall of blue, and I glanced over at the man standing in the holodeck archway. "Aren't you supposed to be on the bridge?"

Data's head tilt was only slightly reproachful. "Are you not meant to be sleeping?" His nearly imperceptible stressing of the word 'you' made the question less cold, and more personal. "Zoe, forgoing sleep will not delay your mother's departure. Tomorrow is her last day aboard, and I know you will regret it if you do not 'make time' for her."

I had the decency to look chagrinned. "I couldn't sleep." I tell him, and I know he hears more than the obvious meaning in the three words I've uttered. "Computer," I command, "Save program and end."

The water disappeared first, and then the boat around me dissolved into nothing, leaving me standing on the bare black and yellow holo-grid, in the jeans and t-shirt I'd been wearing under the holographic protective gear. My hair was no longer crusted with salt, and neither were my lips. I was still waterlogged though, and my sneakers sloshed as I walked over to my partner, leaving a trail of water behind me. It would be cleaned as soon as we exited the space, and the holodeck cycled.

"Why _aren't_ you on the bridge?" I asked. "No one had the holodeck reserved for this time, and I wasn't using any of the intense programs." I stood on tip-toe to kiss him without getting his uniform wet. "Is something wrong?"

"Except for your recent inability to sleep through the night, nothing is amiss," he said. "Ensign Hawke is standing a dog-watch until ten-hundred hours, and will page me if something should come up before my duty-shift officially ends at eight-hundred hours."

Data – and all the senior officers - being on-call but not actually on the bridge during slow hours of the overnight shifts and weekend mornings was a new policy Captain Picard had put into effect at the beginning of the year. It was his way of testing some of the junior officers, as well as giving the senior staff a bit more 'down' time.

If many of us – me, especially – who weren't in the inner circle suspected this meant something big and dangerous was lurking in the next asteroid field, or behind an unsuspecting planetoid, no one was talking about it, and when I'd asked my boyfriend, he'd only told me what I'd already knew: Duties were often shifted to accommodate the needs of ship and crew, or expanded to enhance the experiences of rising officers.

We exited the holodeck and made our way toward the turbo-lift that would take us to deck eight, and home. "She changed her name," I blurted as we entered the 'lift. "I mean she took _his_ name. Ed's. Why do they phrase it that way? 'Took' his name, like she's some kind of petty thief? But anyway, she's using Benoit."

"Is that unexpected?" Data asked. "'Harris' was not her birth name, and she has remarried. Perhaps she simply wishes a fresh start."

"But it's _my_ name," I complained, working hard to keep any hint of a whining tone out of my voice. "I'm fine with her leaving the ship – I mean, it's not my decision, but I'm happy for her – I really am – but this feels like she's disowning me somehow."

"Ah! You are feeling as if your mother is emotionally disconnecting you from her new family." Data could be incredibly insightful at times. "I believe you know that she is doing no such thing. You must simply give yourself time to allow your heart to 'catch up' with your head."

I peered at him through slitted eyes. "When exactly did you become an expert on mother-daughter relationships?"

"I am not," he replied. "However, we have been a couple for over a year – "

"- barely – "

"Even 'barely' is still 'over,'" he countered smoothly, and then continued, "and we shared a close association for nearly one and one half years before that. If I am not quite an 'expert' in the mind and moods of Zoe Harris, I believe I qualify as 'extremely knowledgeable' at the very least."

I let my face relax and my eyes widen into a more neutral expression. "You're going to tell me that I should confront my mother about how I feel before she leaves, aren't you?"

He opened his mouth as if to speak, closed it again as I'd clearly stolen his line, and then opened it again. "I am not, if only because you have just demonstrated that you know what you must do. I will, however, remind you that you are typically better able to handle difficult conversations when you are well-rested, rather than exhausted from spending the 'wee hours' of the morning nearly drowning on the holodeck."

The doors opened onto the corridor where we lived. I answered him while we walked but reduced the volume of my voice. "You know better than anyone that I was in no danger of actually drowning. And I'm not exhausted," I said trying to hide a yawn. "I'm pleasantly tired and ready to get a couple more hours of sleep before I meet Mom for lunch."

Data held his response until we were inside our quarters and the door had slid shut behind us. "You accepted her invitation?"

My mother had been attempting to schedule a last mother-daughter meal with me for nearly a week, and I'd been putting her off while I worked through my own issues about her leaving. On the one hand I was never going to live at home again. I'd moved in with Data before I left for a six-month contract with the Idyllwild Theatre Company's summer tour, spent a month sharing my San Francisco apartment with him during the rehearsal period, while he was on detached assignment at Starfleet HQ, and survived my - _our_ – first taste of being dragged through tabloids.

On the other hand, my relationship with my mother had been fragile for years, and it was only after she'd dragged me to the _Enterprise_ that we'd repaired those years' worth of me feeling abandoned and her feeling guilty and neither of us knowing how to communicate.

"Actually, no." I said, feeling a bit of pride at the hint of surprise on my lover's face. " _She_ accepted _my_ invitation." I moved through the main room to our bedroom. "What time is it?"

"Zero-seven-twenty-nine," came Data's answer.

I yawned my acknowledgement and began peeling off wet clothing. "Should I set an alarm, or will you wake me at eleven?"

"I will wake you."

"Join me, when your shift is over?"

"Of course." I heard him sit in the chair behind his console, and heard his soft command to the computer as he began whatever task was foremost in his mind at that moment. Then I crawled into our bed, letting Spot curl up in front of me.

Half an hour later, when Data supplanted the cat in our bed, I woke up just enough to resettle myself against his chest. When he woke me at eleven, I was ready to face almost anything… even a last lunch with my mother.

 **(=A=)**

"Zoe, I'm confused," my mother said after we'd each finished our meals and the server in Ten-Forward had brought us fresh coffee. "When I asked you for your approval of my marriage to Ed, you gave it whole-heartedly. When I asked if you wanted me to stay on the ship until you graduate, you encouraged me to take the position on Earth. You've been back on the ship for a month now, and you and Data seem to be adjusting to living together… what's got you so rattled?"

Trust my mother to beat me to the punch.

Two years before, I would have been sullen and glowery and made some snarky remark, before running from the room. A year before, I would have hemmed and hawed and made her drag the truth from me. That day, I did the adult thing, and told the truth. I even remembered everything I'd learn in a year's worth of sessions with Counselor Troi, and used I-statements:

"I _do_ like Ed, and I know he makes you happy. And I would never want to be the reason you don't take a job that's practically made for you, but I hadn't realized until you sent the invitation to your farewell party that you'd changed your last name." Spoken out loud, it sounded a bit petty on my part, but feelings were feelings and truth was truth.

Behind the coffee cup she'd been about to sip from, my mother's face blanched. "I never told you," she said. "Oh, Zoe, I'm sorry. You know it has nothing to do with you, don't you?"

"Honestly, Mom? I feel a little like I'm being left behind… like there's no place for me in your new family." I saw her face fall, and added. "Intellectually, I know that's not really true, but emotionally… I just wish you'd told me."

My mother nodded, and set down her cup, reaching across the table for my hand, which I placed in hers. "Zoe, you've handled so much, so _well_ , since you came to the _Enterprise_ , and especially in the last year… You've spent the last six months leading your own life; you're living with the man you love. You're so grown up, that sometimes I can convince myself you don't really need me anymore, but you will always - _always_ – be my daughter, and there will _always_ be a place for you in my family, and my home."

The intensity of her words made my eyes misty, and the grip of her hand around mine made me realize just how much I was going to miss her. "I just… I felt like you were cutting me out."

"I'm not," she promised. "I would never." She squeezed my hand and then released it. Folding both her hands in front of her on the table, she explained, "I gave up the name 'Morelli' when I married your father, because I was pregnant with you, and we felt having a single family name was important. Your father was already a 'name,' and I've always thought hyphenates were… klunky."

I managed a smile at her choice of words. "Klunky? _Really_?"

"Really," she said with a slight chuckle. "My relationship with Ed, this position at the Academy – they're a new start for me, kiddo. One of the reasons I decided to pursue the position at all is so that I'll be close enough for you to visit while you're at Yale… so you won't have to choose between seeing me and coming here to spend your time with Data."

The mist in my eyes became full-on tears. It hadn't yet occurred to me that I'd have to make those sorts of choices, but my mother had quietly arranged her own future to accommodate mine. "I thought… I mean, I know I told you to go, but I felt like you were just blissfully leaving me behind."

"Oh, Zoificus." My mother's eyes were wet, as well. "I felt like you were leaving _me_ , when you told me you were moving in with Data." She took a breath. "I have to ask… are you certain about staying with him?"

It was a fair question, but it was also one I'd had a lot of time to consider during those long, lonely nights in the hotel rooms when I was on tour. "I'm certain," I said. "I promise, Mom, this wasn't a rash decision, or a reaction to walking in on you and Ed that time. Data and I had been discussing it for _weeks_ before that night." I took a beat, because I felt myself getting overly emotional. I took a breath, as well, composing myself. "We've been talking about the future… about what we both want from it. We're not planning to rush into anything, but we've discussed the possibility of marriage someday." It was the first time I'd told anyone.

I expected to see shock or dismay on my mother's face. Instead, her expression was calm. "I won't tell you that you're too young, because I wasn't that much older than you when I married your father. But I have to remind you, even just dating Data, there are people who aren't going to accept your relationship."

"Do you? Accept it?"

My mother closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, and met mine, I saw the truth in them, and saw it echoed in her gentle smile. "I've seen the depth of his caring for you, and I've watched you blossom within the relationship you two have. How could I _not_ accept the undeniable connection you have with each other?"

I didn't have the right words to respond with. Instead, I just said, "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, kiddo. You'll come to the party tonight? Twenty-hundred hours, holodeck two."

"Data and I will both be there," I promised, smiling. Data had already informed me that he would be attending whether I did or not, but I didn't mention that to my mother.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46033.65**

 **(Monday, 13 January 2369, 06:49 hours, ship's time)**

"Well, that was oddly anti-climactic," I grumbled to Data as we exited the transporter room. Mom and Ed had just beamed over to the _Alexander Hamilton,_ the ship that would carry them to Earth. "I feel like I'm supposed to be bawling, or something."

"It is possible that you will experience a stronger reaction after you have had some time to 'decompress,'" he suggested. "However, I believe that the reason you are not as distressed as you feel you ought to be is that everything that 'needed saying' between you and your mother has already been said. This morning's departure, is not any kind of 'coming-of-age ritual.' Rather, it is more an expansion of a separation that has already occurred."

My eyes met his and I shrugged slightly. "Yeah, maybe." He turned the transporter controls back over to the ensign who was assigned there that day, and we exited the room, and headed for the turbo-lifts. "It was nice of you to see them off with me."

"They have become 'like family,' to me," he revealed. "As well, we all share an affection for you." He preceded me into the 'lift, and requested the deck for our quarters. I'd been expecting him to head for the bridge, but he saw my surprised face and explained, "I am off-duty until this afternoon, and as you know, classes do not resume until tomorrow."

I'd known about the classes. I had meetings scheduled the next day with Ms. Phelps, the high school guidance counselor, and Tlassam Prerr, the ship's protocol officer, to discuss my new schedule. But the rest… "You rearranged your schedule so I wouldn't have to send them off alone?"

"For that, yes, but also because we have another task we must make headway on, even if we do not complete it."

"What's that?" I asked.

"We must determine how we will be celebrating your eighteenth birthday."

"About that…"

"Do you not wish to have a party?"

"Well, if it were _really_ up to me, you and I would sneak off to Terlina III for a week, but that's not really a practical option just now, is it?"

"No, it is not." He took a beat, and said, just before the turbo-lift doors opened on our deck, "I am pleased that you are willing to return to Terlina."

"More than willing," I said, as we reached the entrance to the rooms we called home. "It's going to sound silly… maybe even naïve, but ever since we went there, and I saw how you'd had the master bedroom altered to accommodate not just _my_ needs, but _ours_ , as a couple, I've had this recurring fantasy about making it our home. I mean, not to live in day-to-day, because your work is here, and I'm going to be on Earth for four years, and then, who knows? But, as a home base, for any time we both have a long enough vacation."

As I was speaking, I had also been moving through the main room of our quarters to the couch where I kicked off my shoes and slouched comfortably into my usual corner. "I'm sorry, Data, I'm being presumptuous again. We've never even discussed what you plan to do with the house, and here I am practically planning a future that's only a possibility." My expression was sheepish and I knew it.

My boyfriend joined me on the couch, sitting at an angle so he could face me. "You are not being presumptuous, Zoe. While Terlina is somewhat outside the most frequently-used shipping routes, it is not so far 'off the beaten track' that living there would be uncomfortable; the caretakers have proven to be extremely resourceful." His tone changed to one that was more personal, more intimate. "I, too, have envisioned us occupying it at some point in the future." He lifted my stockinged feet and placed them in his lap, resting his hands on my ankles. "However, we are both digressing. With the understanding that we will not be leaving the _Enterprise_ , how would you like to mark the occasion of your birthday?"

I thought about it for a few minutes, letting ideas float into my consciousness, and then pushing them away. Finally, I said. "Do any of the existing sailing programs allow for a fairly large sailboat and a two- or three-hour cruise around, say, Solstice Island, on Pacifica, or San Francisco Bay? Or maybe Tahiti, where the water's actually swimmable?"

"If they do not, I am certain they could easily be modified. I am happy to help."

"What, you're not going to suggest I get Reg to do the coding?" I teased. "We've never worked on a non-musical, non-theatrical project together. It could be fun."

"Indubitably," Data said. I could practically see ideas sparking into being inside his head, as he left the couch in favor of the chair at his workstation. "Zoe, could you describe what you have in mind?"

So I did.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46037.92**

 **(Thursday, 16 January 2369, 20:13 hours, ship's time)**

"You're late." Captain Picard's good-naturedly gruff voice responded when I knocked on the frame of the open door to the workout room. He had already donned bag gloves and was doing warm-up jabs, not really hitting the heavy bag that dangled into the center of the room.

"I wasn't sure I was going to come at all," I admitted. "I'm woefully out of practice, and Lasso gave me a mountain of reading to wade through." Lasso was the name the ship's protocol officer preferred to use with 'friends, colleagues, and close associates' and he had been put in charge of my first rotation in the alternative education pilot program I'd been drafted into.

"What made you change your mind?"

"It's Data's turn to host poker night, and hanging out reading in the bedroom while a good chunk of your command crew is playing cards on the other side of the wall is all kinds of awkward."

"I'm sure they would have welcomed you at the card table," the captain said.

"Oh, Will and Geordi both invited me to play," I said, stripping off the _Beach Haven Yacht Club_ sweatshirt I'd worn over my athletic gear. A sports bra and stretch-pants were acceptable attire for an actual workout, but not so much for traipsing around the ship. "I had to decline."

He passed me my own pair of bag gloves – pink ones – and asked, "Did you?"

"Yes, sir. For a lot of reasons, including the fact that Data deserves to have time with his friends without his girlfriend tagging along."

Something flickered in his expression. Relief, maybe, that he didn't have cause to worry about me overhearing things I had no business knowing? Possibly I was just reading more than was there, though, because I always had the sense that I was being evaluated during every encounter we had.

"It's astute of you to recognize that," he observed, proving me at least partially correct. "Shall we begin? We'll start with the basics to see how much your form has slipped. Right hand attacks, left hand defends, now _jab…_ "

We worked with the heavy bag for about forty-minutes, and I could tell both from how much I was making the bag swing, as well as from Captain Picard's responses that my form hadn't suffered too much from six months with extremely limited opportunity to train. Oh, I'd done some sparring with Idyllwild's fight choreographer before we left San Francisco, but stage boxing and real boxing are almost nothing alike, except for the outfits.

"Drop your shoulder," the captain instructed, and I did, but the right upper-cut I was trying to execute went wild.

"Ow!" I'd managed to strain the shoulder I was meant to be dropping, but I could almost feel what I'd been doing wrong, and I wanted to correct it. Before I could take another swing, though, the captain called for a break.

"Zoe, stop." Captain Picard stilled the swinging of the punching bag. "Sit down; drink some water."

I gratefully complied, collapsing onto the bench against the wall. I stripped off the bag gloves, and reached for the bottle of water that was always waiting for me. "I told you I was woefully out of practice," I panted. "I wasn't kidding."

"Right now, young woman, I am less concerned with your lack of a training regimen than I am about your shoulder. Is there any throbbing?" There was the merest hint of concerned affection coloring his typical gruffness, and that made me answer truthfully.

"No throbbing. There was a twinge, is all."

His steely eyes met mine, and his expression was one of appraisal. I half-expected him to end our session, but he merely encouraged me to drink more water. Then he surprised me with a more personal question. "How are you adjusting to being back on the _Enterprise_?"

"I'm… settling," I said. And then, because he was still looking at me with that appraising gaze I added, "Data told you about my early morning gonzo-sailing trip on the holodeck, didn't he?"

"Not in precisely that language, but… yes."

"I'm doing alright," I said. "I mean, at first I felt a bit abandoned by my mother, but that was just because she'd never told me about changing her name."

"She's using Benoit now." He made it a confirmation.

"Yes, but she hadn't told me. And I get it, sir, I do. But it was… jarring, and I didn't handle it terribly well. Being on the water - even if it was holographic water – helped."

"I can imagine." He let silence stretch between us for several seconds, then added. "When I was a boy I also found solace in the sea. Mastering the wind and the waves is a heady feeling."

"But you ended up going to space. Is it just as heady, sir, when you master that?"

"Hmph. I don't believe anyone truly masters space."

"Why did you choose it then?" I wasn't sure if he would answer, but my curiosity was sincere.

"Oh… Zoe. I grew up reading the stories of all the great explorers. I chose Starfleet because it was the best path toward following in their footsteps. The sea I sail now is the one made of stars, but it holds as many, or more, treasures waiting to be found, and discoveries waiting to be documented." Something about his words was so honest, and so poetic, that I didn't want to respond, for fear of spooking the captain out of his nostalgic mood. I needn't have worried, though, because he changed the subject. "Do you sail when you're not on a holodeck, Zoe?"

"Swimming, sailing, surfing. If it involves water and waves, I pretty much do it. I'm better at surfing than sailing, but the sailing programs on the holodeck are more challenging." I chuckled softly, almost ruefully. "I guess it's my year for diving into challenges."

"Your new education program?" he asked, even though we both knew that's what I'd been referring to. Trust him to circle back to that.

"Yes, sir."

"Lasso's report on your first meeting with him was favorable. How do you feel about what you'll be doing?"

"I'm a little overwhelmed, but I'm pretty sure that will wear off. Right now, I feel like I'm in an intense cram session for an exam in a class I've never even taken. Also? I hadn't realized Lasso – I can't believe he _prefers_ being called 'Lasso' - has a sense of humor."

"Oh?" The captain seemed as though he was hiding a grin.

"The first time I met him, I thought he was intimidating, or that he saw me as an annoyance. And the second time, I was pretty sure I was just _one more task_ on his endless list." I stressed the words on purpose. "But on Tuesday when we met with Ms. Phelps, and then continued our meeting alone, he seemed really excited about… how did he put it? 'Being in charge of designing the maze for the guinea pig.' He suggested that while Data couldn't supervise me - as we discussed – I shouldn't hesitate to ask for his guidance on scheduling some of the things he wants me to do."

"Can you think of anyone better suited to helping you create a workable schedule that includes both theory and practice?"

I couldn't, and I told him so, adding, "It'll take more than Data to help me figure out how to get through all the reading he assigned, though. Sometimes I envy his super android information acquisition skills."

"As do I," the captain confessed with a grin that visited his face and left it again almost instantly. How's your shoulder?"

I rotated it experimentally. No burning, no more twinges. "I think I'm good," I said.

He flashed another thin smile and nodded his head, putting a button on the conversational part of the evening. "Grand. Now then, shall we box?"

I favored him with my fiercest gaze. "Bring it."

We sparred for thirty minutes or so, but it wasn't as much a challenge or a competition, as it was a hands-on lesson with the captain offering corrections on my stance while we worked out. We stopped when Data arrived to escort me home. Sweaty and exhausted, I collapsed onto the bench to guzzle more water.

"Good work tonight, Zoe." Captain Picard told me. "When you get home, take a shower with hot water and sonics, and if you haven't already had dinner, make sure you eat lightly." It was the advice any coach would give their student. He recycled his water bottle and towel, murmured something to Data that I couldn't discern, and took his leave of us.

"Yes, sir," I panted in the direction of his disappearing form. To Data, I said, "I need a minute. I'm pretty sure my entire body has turned to jelly."

Data nodded, and joined me on the bench. "You and Captain Picard seem to get along well," he observed.

"He's a lot less intimidating in workout clothes than he is in uniform," I offered, by way of an explanation. "Did you know he used to sail, as a boy?"

"I did not," Data answered. "But I do not find it 'at odds' with what I know of him. Perhaps it is your mutual taste for adventure that allows him to connect with you."

"That or my killer sense of humor," I agreed, only half-teasing him. "I think I can move now," I added a beat later. "The thought of a shower might have something to do with it. Especially if it's followed by a cup of tea with the hottest second officer on the ship."

Data was nothing if not the perfect straight man. "I am the only second officer on the ship," he pointed out.

"Details, details," but I was laughing as I said it. I got off the bench, recycled my own bottle and bag gloves and preceded him from the room. Outside the gym, I slipped my hand into his, just because I could, and the feeling of his fingers twining with mine, gave me the reassurance I needed to ask, "Do you think it would be incredibly inappropriate to invite the captain to my birthday party? I mean, I know he'll probably decline, but… would it be wrong to _ask_?"

"I will ask him, if you wish," Data offered.

"I do wish," I said.

We were quiet the rest of the way home, but it was a comfortable, companionable kind of quiet, the kind that only bolstered my confidence in our relationship. It was also a quiet that was ruined by a burst of kinetic energy practically hitting us as we exited the turbo-lift on our deck.

The gold-clad cause of that energy stopped and stammered an apology. "Oh… D-data… Zoe… I'm – I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Are you alright, Reg?" I asked the perpetually nervous engineer.

"I'm… I'm fine…" he said. "Sorry. Sorry again, sir… Zoe."

He disappeared before Data had even begun to speak. Inside our quarters, I asked. "Is it just me, or is he getting weirder?"

"I am not certain what you mean by 'weirder,'" Data answered, his tone betraying that he, too, was perplexed. "However, while Lt. Barclay is often somewhat – I believe the correct term is _high strung_ \- he did seem more agitated than usual. I will let Geordi know to check in with him tomorrow."

For half a second, I was confused about Geordi being the one to check on Reg, but then I remembered that as an engineering specialist, Barclay would report to our friend. I thought about asking whether or not Data would have made that suggestion if I hadn't been there, but chose to hold my tongue. Instead I just said, "I hope he's okay."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46048.11**

 **(Saturday, 18 January 2369, 13:27 hours, ship's time)**

"Classes are weird without you," my best friend Dana complained over a late lunch in Ten-Forward.

Data was busy trying to figure out why a science ship called the _Yosemite_ was essentially dead in space, with all of her crew missing, so after a late, lazy morning, and an hour of actually playing my cello, just in case quartet rehearsals would begin soon, I contacted my best friend and invited her to meet me.

"It's just me, Josh, and Rryl in Data's math tutorial, and the new history teacher is a security specialist, and always wants to talk about everything from a military strategy point of view." It was rare for Dana to complain about anything. When she did, we all took it seriously.

"I feel your pain," I said. "It's not like I've gotten off light with this new internship, though. I have mountains of reading to do, plus I'm taking private lessons to continue my study of Vulcan language and culture, and I'm supposed to be helping Lasso plan a formal welcome dinner for some ambassador we're picking up next week, all the while learning about the dispute he's supposed to be solving. The ambassador, I mean, not Lasso."

"Who's Lasso?"

"Lt. Prerr. _Tlassam_ Prerr. Protocol officer. He says no one pronounces his first name correctly, anyway, so why not just be Lasso… at least that has some style." My voice took on a hint of my current supervisor's musical accent, one that was both reminiscent of a Jamaican accent from Earth, and completely unlike it, both at the same time.

Dana laughed. "Party planning and reading? Really?"

"Well, the reading is a lot of political theory, etiquette guides, and declassified ship's logs. It's dryer than it sounds, I swear."

"Yes, but at least you're not stuck in classes anymore."

"Truth?" I asked my friend. She nodded and I continued. "I thought I'd love not being in classes. I thought I'd love having a schedule I make myself – well, Data helped me work out the actual time-table – but there are days when I'd rather be back in lit class with you and Josh. I keep telling myself it's only been a week, and I should give it more time, but I feel undereducated and overwhelmed."

"Is that why you've been so scarce all week?"

"Yeah… mostly," I said. "The rest is…" I stopped myself. "The rest I feel weird talking to you about because it involves Data, and you're still his student."

Dana's hand darted out to touch mine, reassuringly. "It's a little awkward, yeah, but if you need to talk, I'll listen. Maybe you could talk about the non-Data-specific stuff?"

I flashed a grateful smile. "Most of it _is_ non-Data-specific. I'm adjusting to living with my boyfriend, and most of time it's easy, but then there are times when it's not. Like when he was hosting poker night for the othe – for his friends. I had a thing of my own, but if it had ended sooner and I'd wanted to go home to bed, I would have felt like I was intruding, or… it would have just been strange and awkward."

My friend's smile was a sympathetic one. "I can see why that would be a little unsettling," Dana said. "You should talk to him about it. Figure out a plan or ground rules or something."

"You'd think I would have done that, wouldn't you?" I asked wryly. "I think I'm still wrapping my brain around not being a guest." I paused for a moment, suddenly unsure of what to say next. Finally, I asked, "So, how _are_ things with Josh?"

Dana grinned. "Wow, Zoe, you _are_ out of the loop. We broke up right after Christmas, but we're still friends. He's dating one of the interns in the childcare center."

"Really? Is he truly into her, or does he just want access to the cool toys?" Our mutual friend and classmate had always been a lot like an overgrown child, himself.

"Probably both," Dana said, grinning.

I laughed. "Yeah, you're probably right; what about you, though? Is there a new guy?"

She muttered a name I couldn't discern.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Blushing, my best friend said, "I'm dating Ethan Lovejoy, okay. And yes, I know he was your Romeo in the play, and yes, I know he's got a reputation, and yes his breath is kind of scary – we're working on that – but he's funny, and he's sweet, and he treats me nicely, and I like him."

I sat back in my chair, totally unsure how to respond. Ethan Lovejoy was also known as Ensign Loverboy, but he did have a sweet side.

"Well?" Dana asked, after almost a minute of silence.

"Well," I said. "Are you happy?"

"Yes." She said it with such certainty that I had no trouble believing her.

"Good." I grinned. "Bring him to my birthday party, if you want."

A weight I hadn't realized my friend was carrying until her posture changed seemed to ease out of the blonde woman across the table from me. "Okay," she said. After a couple of deep breaths, she repeated it, "Okay." And then in a really small voice she added, "You're really not mad?"

It was my turn to reach for her hand. "Why would I be?" I asked. "You're my friend. He and I never actually dated; we were just in a play together… and he's a lot more age-appropriate for you than the man _I'm_ with so… really… why would I be mad?"

"I don't know," she said. "I just thought you might be."

"I promise I'm not."

"Good," she said. "Now, tell me what you've got planned for your birthday. Did Data put something together? You _have_ to do something amazing; it's your eighteenth."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46057.38**

 **(Tuesday, 21 January 2369, 22:39 hours, ship's time)**

 **Aboard the S/V _Intrepid_**

The moon was nearly full over the lagoon near Papeete, Tahiti, and the temperature of both air and sea had been conducive to diving from the platform at the aft end of the twelve-meter ketch we were aboard. (The _Varuna_ wasn't large enough to accommodate a dozen people, so we'd commandeered the _Intrepid_ for my birthday.) Some of us had been alternately swimming and sunning since late afternoon, while others had joined us later. Food and drinks had been plentiful and everyone aboard was pleasantly tired, pleasantly full, and pleasantly lulled by the gentle rocking of the boat upon the waves.

A soft click followed by an increase in illumination provided by fairy lights strung into the ringing and along the life-lines of the boat signaled to all of us that it was nearly time to change tacks.

"Oh, that's lovely!" I exclaimed looking first at the lights themselves, and then at their murky reflection on the surface of the water. "You did this," I accused my boyfriend, against whom I was reclining. He himself was sitting in the bowsprit of the boat, his back against the foremost strut of the metal railing.

"You described an idea and I 'ran with it,'" he affirmed. "Do you approve?"

I smiled, then turned my head slightly and stretched backward to steal a kiss while no one was watching. "It's perfect," I breathed. "I couldn't ask for anything more."

Data had been holding me loosely his arms around me, and his hands clasped and resting on my bare skin, just above the top edge of the black, purple, and gold pareo I'd tied over a matching bikini. "If you need nothing more, then, perhaps we should forego cake and presents?"

"Hah! Tease!" The words were wrapped in laughter before I flung them in his direction.

He squeezed me ever so slightly against him, and then released me, pushing gently so that I'd know to swing my feet up from where they'd been dangling over the water, and stand up. Once I had, he announced, in a voice that managed to carry throughout the boat without being uncomfortably loud (super android acoustics, maybe?) "Everyone, if you would all please gather below-deck we will be serving coffee and cake in the salon."

Our guests – those who had been my classmates and those who were really more Data's family-of-choice, but were becoming my friends, as well – moved from the corners of the boat they'd been occupying. Robin Lefler, Counselor Troi, and Dr. Crusher had been chatting in the cockpit, while Ray Barnett had been at the aft end of the boat with Geordi and Commander Riker. My closest friends Dana and Josh, each with a new significant other, had staked out sections on the port and starboard sides of the mast, using the mainsail as a sort of privacy divider.

I had been barred from the salon for most of the day, being led through it blindfolded when I'd had to use the head, but now, following the rest of the group, I was excited that I'd finally able to see what Data had created.

I was on the second step down the hatchway from the cockpit, with Data behind me, when there was a soft bump against the boat. I heard a gruff voice mutter " _Merde_." Then, after a beat, the same voice called out, "Ahoy, _Intrepid,_ room for one more?"

"Captain Picard," Data called back, "welcome. Please hold one moment. We will throw you a line." I went with him to do that, and it's a good thing I did, because while Data was securing the captain's dinghy to the _Intrepid_ 's side, and extending the ladder, I was being handed a bundle of wrapped packages.

"Captain Picard, I honestly didn't think you'd come."

"Nonsense, Zoe. A member of the _Enterprise_ family turning eighteen happens very rarely. I wouldn't have missed it."

He was up the ladder and on deck with the quick grace I'd grown used to seeing during my boxing lessons, but refused to accept the bundle back. "Those are for you; you may as well hang onto them."

"Yes, sir."

"If you'll come this way sir," Data added, "we were just gathering in the salon for cake and coffee."

The three of us stepped through the hatch to join everyone else, who were already arranged around the teak table. In the center of it there was a cake decorated with a mermaid version of me playing my cello in an undersea quartet. The first violinist's face bore a striking resemblance to the man whose hand was currently at my back.

"Oh, that's awesome!" I blurted, and everyone laughed. "Please tell me someone brought a camera or tricorder so we can get a picture before it gets sliced?"

I was ushered into one of the remaining open spots, sitting next to Data so the captain could be at the end of the table, and it was only then that I noticed that there was a small mountain's worth of presents as well.

"I believe we should serve cake and coffee, and then Zoe can unwrap her gifts while we eat," Data suggested.

No one objected, but Commander Riker insisted that everyone sing _Happy Birthday_ to me.

"I recommend the doctor put her surgical skills to use on the cake," Picard suggested, and she immediately complied, even though it was obviously not an order. It helped that she was sitting in the center of the table. Similarly, Geordi and Josh were closest to the galley, and therefore in charge of coffee and tea.

I worked through the gifts while we ate. Most of them were fairly usual – a scarf from the counselor, a hand-painted t-shirt from Dana, and earrings from the doctor. Geordi had given me a set of the expanded _Warp 10_ card game he, Data, and I had played on Terlina III, and I received a collection of books and music on data-solids from Josh and Ray. Robin had presented me with a copy of her self-written laws, but also the replicator pattern for a dress we'd both liked.

Commander Riker's gift was also a data-solid full of music, but there was a second item in the box he'd given me. I unwrapped the tissue holding it and found a comm-badge. Holding it up I asked, "Will?"

There was a general hush as small side-conversations went silent, and then the first officer grinned at me. "Data said you wouldn't wear this unless we presented it with some kind of ceremony. This isn't like the limited-use comm-badges you and your friends were all issued two years ago. This one is fully integrated into the ship's comm-system. You have a unique position on the _Enterprise_ , and you're going to need it."

"Lasso kind of warned me this was coming," I confessed. "He seemed surprised when he couldn't contact me directly."

"Well, now he can. Wear it well, Ms. Harris." His words were delivered with warmth and good humor.

"I'll do my best, Commander Riker," I said, matching his tone.

The remaining two packages were from the captain, and they were numbered. The first was a printed textbook, obviously antique, about seamanship and celestial navigation. I grinned, showing everyone, understanding that it was a reference to comments I'd made days earlier about feeling a little at sea. The second package made me cry, though, because it was the sextant I'd seen in his ready room. "You can't be seriously giving this to me?" I protested.

His response was to direct me to read the note – he was too private a man to speak them aloud – and to remind me, "Zoe, even at a birthday party, it's bad form to argue with the captain."

Smiling through my tears, I read his note about having something to help me find my way, then handed it to Data, so he could read it, also. Meeting the captain's eyes, I snarked gently, "You're totally going to quiz me on how to use it, aren't you, sir."

"Quite so," he agreed good naturedly.

"Thank you."

I caught the counselor's eye, then, and I could tell she'd either been told, or figured out, who had been helping me with the need to hit things that had begun nearly a year before. She nodded and flashed a smile. I had a feeling we'd be meeting for lunch, if not a formal counseling session, before the week was out.

"My gift for you is in two parts," Data said, after the room had settled a bit. "The second part is at home, in our quarters; it proved too difficult to giftwrap," he explained. "The first part is not tangible, but is the gift of a memory. When you suggested a sailboat as the setting for your party, I researched typical on-board celebrations, and learned that music is a common element."

"Please tell me this isn't going to be a sing-along?"

"It is not. I simply wished to present you with a song. Commander Riker," he glanced across the table to where Will was sitting. "There is a guitar on the shelf behind you. May I have it please, sir?"

The bearded man twisted in his seat and retrieved the instrument, which he handed to my boyfriend.

Data strummed it a few times, tweaked the tuning, and the strummed again. Apparently satisfied, he paused before beginning to play properly. "This song dates from the early twenty-first century, and was written and performed by an artist who used the stage name 'Sting.' While the lyrics would seem to refer to endings, I find that somewhat appropriate. After all, Zoe has ended her tenure as a minor, and as a traditional student. I believe, however, that this song is also about beginnings. And devotion. And eternity."

He began to play then, a syncopated waltz, and after a few measures he also began to sing, pitching his warm tenor voice at just the right level for the close interior of the boat's salon:

 _"If I caught the world in a bottle  
And everything was still beneath the moon  
Without your love would it shine for me?  
If I was smart as Aristotle  
And understood the rings around the moon  
What would it all matter if you loved me?_

 _Here in your arms where the world is impossibly still  
With a million dreams to fulfill  
And a matter of moments until the dancing ends  
Here in your arms when everything seems to be clear  
Not a solitary thing would I fear  
Except when this moment comes near the dancing's end"_

When the song ended, I touched Data's arm, intending only to thank him, but when our eyes met, instead of words, we shared a kiss, one that I wasn't entirely certain I'd initiated. It wasn't inappropriately long, and it wasn't like we were kissing in the middle of the bridge. (For that matter, I was wearing a bathing suit and a pareo, and he was in a chambray shirt and khaki trousers.) I could feel everyone watching us, but when we separated, the reaction we got was not at all what I expected.

Our friends – our family – were applauding.

I started laughing, while Data, briefly stunned, showed off his best smug expression, then turned back to me and said, "Happy birthday, Zoe."

The ship's bell rang midnight at that point, and our party began to break up. Dana and Ethan were the first to leave, with Josh and Mari departing right afterward. Robin was next, leaving abruptly when she received a notification of a call from the Academy (probably Wesley), and Ray caught me in a brotherly hug, claiming it was from Annette as well. (Knowing Annette, it probably had been.)

Commander Riker, Counselor Troi, Dr. Crusher, and the captain left together, and Geordi bailed as soon as we'd finished cleaning everything up, but not before I'd grabbed him in a hug that was almost as fierce as those I typically gave Data.

"Whoa, Zoe… what was that for?"

"I'm glad you're not dead," I said, referring to something that had happened while I'd still been on tour. "I never had a chance to tell you."

He seemed to get it, because he returned the embrace, then set me gently away. "Hey… confession?" I nodded, and he continued. "I'm glad I'm not dead, too." We both laughed, then, and he started up the steps to the cockpit, pausing to call back, "Hey, Zo'. You've got another present out here. It's on the bench."

"What?" I asked. And then I turned to Data. "I thought the cockpit was empty."

"It was," he said. He placed the leftover cake in a portable stasis unit, and gathered my gifts into a separate container. They would both be transported back to our quarters as soon as we ended the program we were in, as would Data's guitar.

Together, we exited the salon, and returned to the deck, where the almost full moon was no longer directly overhead, but still bright in the sky. The gift Geordi had mentioned was still on the corner of the portside bench in the cockpit. "Is it real?" I asked.

Data took a close look at the package. "It appears to be."

I sat down to open it, wondering if someone else from the _Enterprise_ – Guinan, maybe, or Reg – had sent it. Whatever it was, the box had weight. Mass. Whatever. A cardboard box lid was removed to reveal layers of black tissue. Inside, there was a figure of a bird. A dove, I thought. I drew it out, and looked closer at it, feeling Data's presence at my side, his own curiosity nearly palpable.

The wings, feet, and head were articulating, and the entire piece was constructed of bits of metal that gave every impression of being left over from some industrial project. I turned it over and over in my hands, admiring the workmanship, but then I saw the note in the box. I handed the dove to Data, thinking, as I did so, that there was something 'off' about it. Doves represented peace and serenity, and nothing about that felt peaceful or serene.

I picked up the note. Cream paper. Good quality. Jet black ink. Not computer generated. Impressive. I unfolded it, and I read it, and I felt the cold rush of fear move through me, making my head swim.

I vaguely heard Data analyzing the bird. "The clockwork that allows the wings to expand and fold is quite ingenious," he was saying.

Fighting the urge to vomit, I looked into the face of the man I loved. "Get rid of it," I said.

"Zoe?"

"Get rid of it, _please_?"

"But it is a marvelous piece of machiner – "

I thrust the note into his face, and watched while he read and absorbed the unsigned message: _You're really **not** a little girl any more. Happy eighteenth birthday, Pigeon. _ "Please, Data, get rid of it. Just get rid of it, and take me home." I was calm as I said it. Too calm? Maybe. He dropped onto the bench beside me, replacing the note in the box and then setting the bird on top of it, tapping his comm-badge with his other hand.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Data. Security detail to Holodeck Three, urgent," he ordered, his tone crisp and official. "Counselor Troi to Holodeck Three."

I heard the counselor's concerned response and the assurance that she was on her way, but I was still staring at the bird in the box. One of its shiny black eyes was staring up at me, empty, but somehow malevolent, also. Suddenly I knew exactly what I had to do. I picked up the bird, got to my feet, and hurled it over the side of the boat, smiling with grim satisfaction when I heard it splash into the dark water.

Counselor Troi, Lieutenant Worf, and two security officers I didn't recognize arrived on the scene before Data had could even ask why I did it.

"Commander Data," the burly Klingon greeted. "What happened?"

"Zoe, are you alright?" The counselor was focused on me.

"Computer, end program." Data, again.

The boat, and the ocean dissolved into nothing. The cake, the guitar and the pile of presents were near our feet, and in the farthest corner of the room the clockwork pigeon rolled onto its back, it's articulating feet clawing helplessly at the air.

The counselor drew me aside while Data spoke with Worf and his team. "Zoe, what happened?" she asked, placing her hand on my back and rubbing it in soothing circles.

"We were getting ready to leave, and Geordi mentioned that there was a box in the cockpit. I opened it and it was a clockwork bird with a note wishing me a happy birthday and calling me 'pigeon.' I'm pretty sure it's from Lore, and I'm pretty sure if you asked him, Data would agree with me. I didn't even really mean to throw it overboard; I just couldn't stand looking at it."

"You had to know that once the program ended the bird would still exist."

"I did," I said. "But I had to get it away from me. I was acting on instinct." I made a helpless gesture. "Hearing it splash _was_ kind of satisfying."

She cracked a smile. "Yes, I'm sure it was." She took a beat, glancing over at Data and Worf, and then turning back to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Not now. Maybe after I've had time to process?" She nodded. "I'm glad I opened the box right away, you know? Better here than in our quarters, anyway. I won't have to lose sleep wondering if Lore's in the closet waiting to jump out."

"There is that," she said diplomatically.

"It's late, and I'm tired. I want to go home – I mean, I want to see whatever else Data planned for me, but I also just… I want to be home. Do they need to talk to me, do you think?"

"Let's find out, shall we?" We walked back to where the others were standing. "Data, Worf, it's quite late, and Zoe's feeling a little shaken up. Do you need a statement from her?"

"I do not believe so. Commander Data explained that you were informed another box was waiting in the cockpit of your boat, when Commander LaForge was leaving, and that when you opened it you recognized the wording of the note as being from Lore." He said the other android's name with more than a little disgust in his tone.

"That is correct," Data said, at the same time that I answered, "Yes, sir."

"Commander Data has given me the note, and we have retrieved the bird from where you threw it. We will attempt to discover how it arrived and where it came from, but there does not appear to be an active threat to you or the ship."

"I concur," Data said.

Counselor Troi cut off whatever else my boyfriend was about to say. "That's good to hear. Zoe, Data, it sounds like this was just a disturbing prank. You two should return to quarters and salvage the rest of your celebration. I heard there was another present waiting." She was just on the edge of _too_ cheerful.

"If you are certain I cannot be of service…" Data began, but a look from the counselor, combined with me slipping my hand into his, stopped him. "You will keep me informed of your findings?" He phrased it as a request, but his tone and the Klingon's curt nod made it obvious it was really an order.

"Of course, sir."

"Zoe, contact me when you're ready, alright?" the counselor reminded me gently. "My schedule is light for the next few days."

"I will," I said. "I promise." I knew she would believe me.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46057.79**

 **(Wednesday, January 22 2369, 02:17 ship's time)**

The leftover cake and presents were waiting on our dining table when we got home, along with a bouquet of flowers from my father and Gia, and the gifts my mother had given into Data's care before she and Ed had left for Earth. I'd opened them at breakfast, with only my partner observing. It was less showy, that way.

Data's guitar had also been returned to our quarters. Thankfully, security had taken ownership of the bird; I hoped I'd never have to see it again.

Our actual walk from the holodeck to our quarters had been a silent one, and I dropped Data's hand as soon as the door had closed behind us. "I'm sorry," I said. "I shouldn't have grabbed your hand back there. I knew you were still in 'officer mode.'"

"You did nothing wrong, Zoe. I should have been more attentive. I did not even ask if you were alright after you realized the source of the pig – _bird_." He hesitated. "Was the counselor's presence helpful?"

"Only in that _she_ had no compunctions about interrupting you and Lt. Worf, to ask if there was a reason to stick around. She asked me to come see her, but… she can't give me any answers this time, and a package is nothing compared to everything else I've survived. I'm a little creeped out. I'm a little bit angry. I'm a _lot_ afraid. But I'm also certain that being here with you is probably the safest place I can be, and I refuse to let a stupid clockwork bird ruin my life."

His head tilt nearly made me grin. "You have come a long way since last year," Data observed. "You are stronger, and more confident."

That _did_ make me smile. "If I am, it's because I had a lot of help becoming so. But you've changed a lot, too… it's just more difficult to define exactly how. If I had to, I'd say you felt content… At least that's how it seems."

"I would say 'complete,'" he corrected. "Or, as complete as I am capable of being."

I picked up the guitar, then put it down. "Complete?"

"Yes." He headed for the bedroom, and I followed, noting that the lights in the main room had gone out as soon as I was through the door. "Your presence in my life, our relationship… I feel as though I am somehow… complete."

"And yet you chose a song about endings."

"It is also a song about eternity," he reminded me.

I leaned up for a quick kiss, then walked into the bathroom intending to relieve myself and then splash water on my face in preparation for bed. Inside, I froze. "Data…"

"Yes, Zoe?" he came to stand in the doorway.

"Our bathroom has been enlarged."

"Yes, Zoe." Repeating words or phrases in different inflections was becoming one of his favorite games with me.

"We have a bathtub."

"Yes, Zoe; we do."

"Why? How…? Oh my god! You said it couldn't be giftwrapped. This is my present? You requisitioned a bathtub? But you don't even take baths."

"But you do, and you have grumbled about the lack of one, more than once. Would you care to take a bath before bed?"

"Care to? Yes. But I'm way too tired." I goggled at it some more, then turned around, stood on tiptoes, and kissed him. "You got me a _bathtub._ "

The smile that made his lips curve up at the corners was almost better than the tub.

I pushed him out of the bathroom, did what I had to do, and padded, nude, back to our bed. Data was waiting for me, but while there were several padds on his side of the bed, he didn't have the optical cable ready to connect to his head.

Snuggling against his chest, I thanked him for the party. "I should be asking you how much of a target you think I am," I said. "I should be panicking about him being nearby. But I refuse to panic, and the rest… the rest I'd like to table for eight or ten hours."

"That is an acceptable plan," Data said. He extinguished the lights, and I felt Spot jump onto the bed as soon as she could do so in secret – that was her latest behavior quirk – but even though I was tired, I wasn't ready for sleep.

"You said that song was about eternity?"

"Yes."

"At my mother's wedding… you mentioned eternity then, as well."

"I did," he said softly. I felt his long, cool fingers wandering over my skin.

"Your eternity and my eternity are kind of disparate. When we use words like that… like 'forever,' I always assume you mean _my_ forever, not your own."

"Why?"

"Anything more seems greedy," I said, joking just a little. "More than that… anything more seems… I can't wrap my brain around it."

"You do not need to 'wrap your brain around' anything right now. I am here. I am eternally devoted to you. And I will not allow Lore to harm you again."

I answered him the only way I could. "I love you." I was silent for a long moment after that, almost drifting to sleep, but then I roused myself enough to ask, "Would you sing that song for me again?"

Data shifted slightly in the bed, and I shifted with him, settling into a more comfortable position. Holding me close, he sang me to sleep, altering the words slightly to fit himself.

" _One day I met a stranger  
And all the noise was silenced in the room  
I felt I was close to some mystery  
In the moonlight and everything shatters  
I felt as though I'd known her all my life  
The world's oldest lesson in history_

 _Here in your arms where the world is impossibly still  
With a million dreams to fulfill  
And a matter of moments until the dancing ends  
Here in your arms when everything seems to be clear  
Not a solitary thing do I fear  
Except when this moment comes near the dancing's end_

 _Oh, if I caught the world in an hourglass  
Saddled up the moon and we would ride  
Until the stars grew dim  
Until the time that time stands still, Until..."_

* * *

 **Notes:** _Varuna_ is the name of the 26' sailboat Tania Aebi used to circumnavigate the Earth, solo, in 1985-87. Her memoir of the trip, _Maiden Voyage_ is a perennial favorite of mine. ( _Varuna_ is also the Hindu god of water and the celestial ocean, as well as the god of law in the underworld.) The _Intrepid_ 's name is courtesy of **Javanyet _._** S/V simply designates a non-commercial, non-military surface vessel as a Sailing Vessel.

As to the bathtub, if Troi can have one, Data should be able to ask for one now that Zoe lives with him. He outranks her, after all. The song Data sings to Zoe is "Until," by Sting, from the movie _Kate & Leopold_ (it runs under the credits). There's an acoustic solo version available on YouTube. Zoe's mother decides to leave the _Enterprise_ in the one-shot A Mother Knows, and talks to Zoe about it in the last chapter of _Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress & Android. _The conversation about eternity happens in chapter 4 of the same story. Data muses about achieving completion in the one-shot _Completion._

Spans the episode "Realm of Fear," but only references it obliquely.

Special thanks to **wintermute75** , **ReLive4Love** , and **Selena.t**.


	2. Internal Displacement

**Internal Displacement**

* * *

 **Stardate 46101.06**

 **(Thursday, 30 January 2369, 21:19 hours, ship's time)**

Another Thursday night, another satisfying boxing session with Captain Picard, and I was on my way home with Data, who had, as usual, come to find me after the officer's poker game. Poker night was the one night a week he made a point of walking me home, and there was something comforting about the establishment of a routine. It was almost like a weekly date night, if a date could be roughly ten minutes long and consist of light conversation and holding hands in the turbo-lift.

"You were earlier than usual," I observed as we entered our dimly lit quarters. "Cards not in your favor?" In truth, my partner won more frequently than he lost, but I liked to tease him about it. That, too, had become a routine.

"Counselor Troi was feeling fatigued, and we concluded our game-play in deference to her."

The ship had recently hosted some big-wig peacemaker named Vas Alkar who was meant to be the savior of Rekag-Seronia, a planet that had only two dominant cultures that had been warring with each other since forever.

On the surface, it had been a fairly innocuous mission. Ambassadors either hitched rides on the _Enterprise_ or used her as mobile headquarters fairly often, but this man also had a weird form of telepathy that allowed him to dump all of his negative emotions into another person – usually a woman – so he didn't have to deal with them, and when his current victim died en route, he chose Counselor Troi as his next target.

Only later did anyone make the grim joke that it was appropriate he'd been ferried to the _Enterprise_ by a ship called the _Dorian_. Alkar's portrait didn't hang in some attic; it was painted onto whatever living, breathing person he corrupted into becoming his 'vessel.'

The whole concept made my skin crawl.

Seeing the counselor go through that made me wish we had a relationship that was less doctor-patient and more just-friends. I still hadn't managed to even express relief that she had - mostly – recovered from the ordeal. I still wasn't sure I should.

"How is she doing, really?" I asked. Spot appeared from nowhere and wove herself between our legs, causing both of us to stop as the door closed behind us. "Hey, Catling. Tripping people does not earn treats."

Spot ignored me, the way cats do.

Data, on the other hand, answered my question. "She seems to tire very easily," he said. "And there are moments when it seems she is not as 'present' as is typical for her."

"Does she talk to one of the other counselors, do you think?" I wondered aloud.

"You are asking who counsels the counselor?" He put a hint of a teasing lilt in the phrase. Experimenting with inflection was something he'd been doing more and more often lately, I'd noticed. Sometimes it wasn't effective, but he'd just nailed it.

"Something like that," I confirmed, smiling. "It can't be easy, having a whole department of psychology experts, but not really being able to confide in them." I squeezed his hand, then let it go. "I'm going to start a bath. Feel like joining me for a light meal in about half an hour?"

I could tell he wanted to ask me a follow-up question. Probably, he wanted to know if _I_ was feeling like I didn't have anyone to confide in, but I wasn't in the mood for a drawn-out discussion. He was in command of the bridge overnight, due to report at midnight, and I wanted our evening to be light.

"That is an acceptable plan."

I started for the bedroom and the bathroom that was attached to it, but not before stretching up to claim a kiss. "That lemony lentil soup and the Greek salad from the Middle Eastern menu would be ideal."

"Noted," Data said, in the tone that meant it would be ready and waiting when I emerged from the bath.

Forty minutes later, I was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and seated across from Data at our dining table, where he had, indeed, had the soup and salad I'd requested waiting for me, along with a glass of chilled water.

As was usual when he wanted to discuss something important with me, he waited until I'd eaten several bites of each before broaching his subject. "Geordi and I have completed our analysis of the clockwork pigeon you received for your birthday."

I froze for a moment, my spoon poised above the bowl of soup. I both did and did _not_ want to know what they'd found. I took a breath, then another, then set the spoon down and looked into Data's eyes. The yellow warmth I found there was always reassuring to me. "And?" I asked, trying hard to keep my voice from quivering.

"The bird itself is 'just' a bird. Geordi likened it to a children's toy." He waited for my nod, then continued. "By tracking mail and cargo manifests we determined that it was delivered along with other personal goods while we were still orbiting Earth last month."

"But it is from him? From Lore?"

"I do not know my brother's handwriting, Zoe. However, it bears enough of a resemblance to mine, though written by someone right-handed, that I would accept it as his. The paper upon which the note was written is a common brand, easily obtained throughout the quadrant. The package itself came through the San Francisco mail depot, and before that, Starbase Fourteen's cargo sorting facility, where it arrived from –"

I cut him off. "So, what you're saying is, there's nothing obviously dangerous, and no hint to where Lore himself might be?"

He hesitated, clearly wanting to give me a more definite answer, but finally he confirmed. "That is an accurate summation."

"Do you think he expects a response? Am I going to wake up one morning to find you deactivated and him standing over me with an evil grin threatening to kill me because I didn't send a thank-you note?" I couldn't keep the plaintive note out of my voice when I asked. "Why, Data? Why is he so fixated on me? I'm nothing special."

Two years before, I knew, Data's first response would have been to provide a logical answer to my questions. It was a testament to how well he knew me, and how much he had changed – was still changing – since our relationship had moved from teacher-student to friends to sharing quarters as romantic partners, that he made no such attempt at that moment. Instead, he chose reassurance first, reaching for my free hand and covering it with his own.

As always, I had a moment where I was struck with the contrast in our skin tones – his white-gold, mine faintly olive, the last remnants of my Risan tan fading in the ship's artificial light. I turned my hand beneath his, and we laced our fingers together.

"If I knew what Lore's objective was, Zoe, I would share it with you, if only because I know that you would 'obsess' over it otherwise. It is possible that he wishes merely to goad you. It is equally possible that in targeting you his intent is to spur _me_ into some action."

"He does seem to think the two of you should be a team. Is it his twisted manifestation of the same desires you have, do you think? Acceptance, belonging, family?"

"Perhaps," my boyfriend answered lightly, but rather than allow our discussion to continue, he lowered his voice to a more soothing tone. "Zoe, dearest, may I suggest that we 'table' this discussion for now? I must be on the bridge in less than an hour, and I do not wish you to experience nightmares when I cannot be present."

For half a second I considered arguing with him, but it was one of the times when his tendency to be right was in my best interest. My sleep had already been fitful for days, and we both knew why: we were approaching the anniversary of when Lore had plucked me from Melona, held me captive for three days, and raped me. I knew Data was expecting me to talk about it, but I had been trying to avoid the subject. Talking about it only brought it all back.

"Sometimes," I mock-grumbled, "it annoys me that you know me so well."

"Do you not have a similarly intimate understanding with regard to myself?" he countered.

"Touché," I laughed. " _You_ have a birthday we need to talk about. Sunday. Anything special you want to do?"

"You know that I was not actually 'born,' Zoe,"

"Details, details. It's the anniversary of your permanent, active presence among the living, and it should be celebrated, or at least… marked… I guess. We don't have to have a full-on party…"

"I would prefer not to."

"But can't we do something just a little bit special?"

"It is not necessary," he reiterated. I wasn't sure why he was so against celebrating himself.

"Was celebrating my birthday 'necessary?'" I challenged.

"Perhaps not in the strictest sense of – " Realization crossed his face. "Ah, I see. Very well, Zoe, you may plan something 'a little bit special.'" He glanced away from my satisfied grin to the meal I'd given up eating. "If you are finished, perhaps we could relocate for some 'couch time' before my duty shift begins."

"You just want the last thing I remember before bed to be your arms around me," I accused.

"It is possible," he agreed, teasing me a little, "that _I_ want the scent of your hair and the texture of your lips among the most recent items in _my_ memory before I 'go to work.'"

I laughed at that. "You can be such a flirt, sometimes, Data." But I got up to recycle my dishes and move toward the couch.

"Is it flirting, Zoe, when I am certain that the woman receiving my attentions will be waiting in bed when I return home?"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "Certain, huh?"

He caught me by the waist, and whirled me to face him, lowering his lips to mine for a kiss that was far more heated than the one we'd shared before my bath. "Certain, sure, definite, undeniable, irrefutable, indubitable…"

I cut him off with another kiss, during which he sat on the couch and lifted me onto his lap. "You know, Mister Data," I said, when we paused for breath, "I had it on good authority that as an android, you weren't supposed to _want_ this kind of intimacy."

"I believe, Ms. Harris," he answered, matching my teasing tone on the first four words he spoke, but transitioning into one that was much more serious, "that my neuro-pathways have grown accustomed to the stimulus they receive when I share these moments with you."

"And stimulus causes growth?"

"Exactly."

"So if we continue…?"

Data didn't answer me with words, just tangled his hands into my hair – he practically fetishized my hair – and claimed my mouth again. I wondered just how many of his 'multiple techniques' were just different ways to kiss.

The hours from midnight to eight hundred hours had never seemed so long.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46088.42**

 **(Sunday, 02 February 2369, 06:37 hours, ship's time)**

I was in bed reading when I heard the door to our quarters open and shut, followed by the soft tread of my partner's feet as he crossed our living room and entered our bedroom. It always amazed me how someone who was so massive for his height could move so gently. Super android stealth, I supposed.

"Hey, Birthday Boy… glad you're home." Technically, of course, Data didn't have a birthday, but it was the thirty-first anniversary of his permanent activation, and as I had insisted the occasion at least be marked, I felt that I had the right to tease him about it. A little.

"'Birthday Boy?'" he asked, but he moved on without waiting for my response. "It is very early. Are you 'just' awake or 'still?'"

It was a fair question. "'Activation Day Boy' sounds weird," I said. "And it's more the latter than the former. " This last was uttered in a sheepish tone. I hadn't been sleeping well since my own birthday, and we both knew why. "Your schedule is still clear tonight, right?"

"It is," he confirmed.

"Good, because Geordi is meeting us on Holodeck Three at nineteen hundred hours." I set my padd aside and slid down in the bed. "Of course, there are some other, more intimate ways we could celebrate."

The mattress dipped under Data's weight as he slid his nude body underneath the covers. "I should not encourage you to give up sleep," he observed. I rolled to face him, and found his warm yellow eyes looking back at me.

"After the holodeck, then," I said, trying not to yawn in his face.

"It is a date," he agreed softly.

"Yes, it is." I put a flat hand against his chest and leaned forward to kiss him, then rolled over again.

Data curled his body around mine, and let his hand come to rest on my breast. "I am here," he told me, the words a whisper punctuated by a light kiss to my bare shoulder. "It is safe for you to sleep now, dearest."

I smiled into the velvet darkness of our bedroom. "I love you, too," I said, and then added, because I had to, "Birthday Boy."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46089.88**

 **(Sunday, 2 February 2369, 19:21 hours, ship's time)**

Thanks to a warning from Ray, who was doing a shift at Tactical that day, I intercepted Data on his way from the bridge to the holodeck, and asked him to come home. I saw him take in the simple black dress and heels I was wearing, along with the pearls he'd given to me before I'd left the ship the previous May, and the earrings that had been my first-ever Christmas gift from him.

"Zoe," he asked. "Are we not meeting Geordi for a holodeck adventure?"

"We've had a change of plans," I said. "We're having dinner with the O'Briens, and afterward, if it's not too late, I thought we'd have video night. We haven't had one since before Christmas." I hesitated. "Do you mind?"

"I do not mind, but I am confused. Why did you alter the original plan?"

"I'll explain while you change," I said, directing his attention to the clothes I'd set out for him – the close-fitting red sweater and the soft black trousers that always drew my attention to his ass. Somewhat reluctantly, I turned away while he exchanged his uniform for civilian clothes, using the time to retrieve something I'd left on our dining table. Returning to the bedroom, as Data was pulling the shirt over his head, I was struck by a wave of attraction mixed with affection. _God I love this man_ , I thought. "Here," I said, tossing the wrapped object toward him."

Long, gold fingers plucked the small square box out of the air, and lifted the lid. "You have given me a candle."

"It's not just any candle," I explained. "It's a _yahrzeit_ candle." I watched him process the word, and cross-reference it, and I practically saw the split-second decision to let me continue with what I was going to say. "I know you're not Jewish, and I'm certainly not, but we both know your father _was_ , and I thought… it felt appropriate to adopt this tradition, though we probably shouldn't actually light it until we get back from dinner."

It was obvious from Data's expression that he comprehended what I was attempting to convey. "This is why we are spending the evening more quietly than you wished," he stated.

I made a half-half shrug. "I forgot. I forgot that it's not just your birthday. That's it's also the day he died. I… playing on the holodeck just seemed wrong. Besides, the O'Briens are your only married friends, and while we're not… it's good to spend time with another couple from time to time."

Data set the candle and the empty box on his nightstand. I expected him to simply leave the bedroom, but he surprised me, by drawing me into his arms, and kissing the top of my head. "Thank you, Zoe."

To the casual observer, his words would have seemed completely devoid of any emotion. To me? There was just enough inflection in his expression of gratitude to convey what I meant to him.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46090.19**

 **(Sunday, 2 February 2369, 22:04 hours, ship's time)**

"Admit it, Data," Keiko teased my partner as her husband refilled my wine glass. "Being in a relationship has changed you."

"I have never denied it," he responded guilelessly. "Though I believe it 'goes both ways.' Zoe and I are good for each other."

My melting heart was tempered by a guffaw from Miles. "Well played, Data," he said, laughing and shaking his head. "The perfect answer. Who'd have ever believed that the man who thought reading about poker would prepare him for playing would wind up being so smooth?"

I glanced from Data's warm gold eyes to Miles's mischievous blue ones, then looked up at the transporter chief's wife. "What, he didn't _always_ have super android poker prowess?"

Keiko rolled her eyes. "Not this story again…"

"It's a good story," her husband protested.

"How about you tell it, and I'll decide?" I suggested.

Keiko began gathering our used dinner plates to put in the recycler, and Data quietly got up to help as the transporter chief told me about their first poker game. "Commander Riker had invited several of us to play, and _this one_ showed up wearing one of those visors you only see in bad video entertainments…" He had gestured toward the android on the words 'this one.'

I had to grin at that. "I've seen that visor. He refuses to let me try it on."

"I do not refuse," Data objected good-naturedly. "I simply remind you that commonly accepted mythos says that it is 'bad luck' for another person to wear it." He returned to his chair, scooting it closer to mine and draping his arm around my shoulders.

"I'm not 'another person,'" I argued. "I'm your girlfriend. 'Commonly accepted mythos' is that if you let me try it on, it would _improve_ your luck."

"Hm." Data's signature non-verbal reaction always made me smile. "Perhaps we will have to test your theory."

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Keiko's poor attempt to hide her smirk.

"Perhaps we will," I agreed, a note of challenge in my voice. I turned to Miles, "Sorry. You were saying?"

But the chief was chuckling at Data and me, and it took him a second to regain enough composure to continue. "So, he starts spouting off all this nonsense about how he's researched poker and there are limited variables as there are only a certain number of cards and only some of them in play at any time, and therefore it should be statistically simple to succeed at the game."

"I'm guessing he didn't? Succeed I mean?"

"Let's just say a certain gold pigeon was well and duly plucked."

"Pigeon?" The word made me shiver, and the hand I'd outstretched to pick up my wine glass flinched. The glass tipped over, and I jumped back. "I'm sorry," I said. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry."

Rivulets of chardonnay were making their way over the tablecloth.

"It's fine," Keiko said soothingly. "It's just wine, Zoe."

Data's arm tightened around me, then released. "Will you be alright?" he asked softly, "Or would you prefer to leave?"

Our hosts were staring at me, Keiko with quiet awareness, and Miles with the kind of confusion men often had when a woman they knew was distressed, and they perceived themselves to be at fault. "Zoe, whatever I said."

"I'm sorry," I said again, using my crumpled napkin to help blot up the wine. "I just… _He_ calls me pigeon, and I've been kind of jumpy since my birthday, and I don't react well to the word… pathetic, I know…" My grin was both rueful and apologetic.

"Now, now, there's nothing to be sorry for." The chief's Irish accented thickened slightly, and in that instant I could really see why Keiko had fallen for him, because all of the cockiness was gone and in its place was a gentle soul. "I didn't know…"

I shook my head. "Even if you had… it's not like I can ask the entire universe to avoid talking about one of Earth's most common birds, you know?" My grin that time was a bit closer to baseline-Zoe. "So how much, exactly, did Data lose?"

"Oh, thousands," Miles responded, finding his inherent good humor again. "Pretty sure if we played for credits rather than points he'd still be in debt."

"Quite the contrary," Data countered. "By the third game we played, I was already as apt to win as anyone else." He turned to me, and deadpanned, "I am told I have the 'ultimate poker face.'"

I shook my head. "You have the ultimate _something_ , that's for sure," I teased. I leaned toward him and met his lips with mine in a brief kiss. "I'm okay," I added softly. "Promise."

His acknowledgement was wordless.

"Alright, you two," Keiko interrupted, her voice, "why don't we move into the living room for dessert."

I'd told Keiko it was Data's birthday, of course, so I wasn't surprised when the coffee Miles brought to the long, low table in front of their couch was followed with her own presentation: a frosted cupcake for each of us, with a single candle in the one she set in front of my partner.

"Happy birthday, Data," she said. "Zoe told us you didn't want a fuss, but we had to do something."

"Thank you," he said. "This is…" He glanced at me, and then back at Keiko. "This is a fitting commemoration. I am honored."

We refrained from singing to him, but we did make him blow out the candle. As I expected, Data took a single bite of the cupcake and offered the rest to me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that I devoured it.

The party was already breaking up when Molly's fussing could be heard emanating from the bedroom. "That's my cue," Keiko said. "Data, Zoe, thank you for coming."

"Thank you for having us," I said. The older woman offered me a sisterly embrace that I accepted, and then Miles pulled me into a bear hug while Keiko insisted on hugging Data, before she ushered us out and went to tend her child.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46090.42**

 **(Monday, 3 February 2369, 00:07 hours, ship's time)**

"That was nice," I said and kicked off my shoes. "I feel bad that you were teased so much." I flopped onto the bed, still in my dress, and then rolled to one side and propped my head on my hand. "You seemed to enjoy it, though."

"Like you, Keiko and Miles tease me as a way to express their affection. I do not mind it."

"Yes, but still…"

Data surprised me by slipping off his own footwear and joining me on the bed, mirroring my position. His hand went to my waist. "Did you fail to notice that I 'gave as good as I got?'" he asked. "Did you also fail to perceive that they were teasing us, as a couple?"

I blushed. "No, I'd noticed both of those things, I just…"

"You are protective of me," he said, "As I am of you, each of us in our own way."

"Yeah, that," I agreed.

"I observed something else about you this evening," Data continued. "May I share it?"

"Sure," I said, surprised.

"You were much more at ease with the O'Briens than you typically are when we socialize with my friends and colleagues among the command staff."

It's really difficult to deny things when your partner's golden eyes are holding your gaze. "Yeah," I said. "I mean, yes, I was. I _am._ "

"Why?"

"Excuse me?"

"I am curious as to _why_ you are more comfortable with people you have a lesser degree of familiarity with."

"It's not so much familiarity as parity," I told him after a long moment. "Parity in more than one way. First, like me, Keiko is a civilian. And, okay, Miles isn't an officer; he's enlisted, but that's really not all that relevant in this situation." I paused to compose my next few sentences, then elaborated. "They're also a couple. In fact, of all your friends, they're the only people in a permanent relationship, or even a long-term one. Everyone else is single."

"I see," Data said, in the way that meant he was cataloguing my responses for later analysis. "Is there more?"

"Yes. There's also… you're a decorated officer. You and the captain and Geordi and Will and Dr. Crusher, and even Counselor Troi – you are _all_ – incredibly accomplished officers. I'm still learning to see most of your friends as 'just people' and not 'big damned heroes,' and at the same time, they're still learning to see me as something more than your young friend and musical protégé."

"They make you uncomfortable?" he asked.

"Only a little, and less so every time we socialize, but the feeling that they'd rather not have some eighteen-year-old kid hanging around is going to take a while to go away."

"That would seem to be an emotional response, rather than an intellectual one," he commented.

"It is," I agreed. "And it's one that I'm working on, I promise." Data seemed to accept my statement, or at least, he realized there was nowhere else to go with that topic at that moment, so I changed tacks slightly. "I said before that we should find other couples to socialize with, but I also think… I think we need to socialize more _as_ a couple, even if I am a little anxious around your friends."

"There are several shipboard events coming up which are typically attended with a 'date,'" he revealed. "Some are social, while others are official. I believe you would enjoy most of them, and the official events would dovetail with your internship in the protocol office."

"Lasso's already got me learning everything there is to know about the Muthari," I confessed. "I think he's planning their visit to the ship to be some kind of a test for me."

"As the young woman about to become the ceremonial head of their government is roughly your age, it would seem a likely choice for your first 'official' assignment. However, there is a social occasion quite soon that I would like you to attend with me."

"Oh? What is it?"

"Guinan is hosting a Valentine's Day dance in Ten-Forward. If you are uncomfortable with celebrating the holiday because of what happened last year – "

"I… " I wanted to accept his invitation, but memories of how the day had ended, and what had come after flooded into my head. I pushed them aside. "Can I think about it?" I knew I'd disappointed him with my lack of enthusiasm. "I'm just... it's a tough day for me, and I don't want to say yes and then melt down, so... let met think about it, but more than likely we'll go." I leaned closer so I could kiss him. "I like dancing with you," I said. His golden eyes seemed to flash for an instant, and he rolled onto his back, pulling me on top of him. "Data!" I laughed, surprised.

"It is very late," he said. "And while I know you have already selected a video, I believe there are better ways to spend the time before you must sleep."

While Data was often the initiator of kisses, and seemed to find endless fascination in his continuing tactile explorations of everything from my hair to the tips of my toes, it was rare for him to suggest sex. We sat up together, me moving into a straddling position on his lap, he reaching for the fastening at the back of my dress.

I captured his lips in a heated kiss as my own hands found the waistband of his trousers and worked it open. It took some negotiation – neither of us wanted to let go of the other – but finally his clothes were gone, and I was wearing only the jewelry he'd given me over the years.

Our joining that night was fast and intense and satisfying in a way that quite literally made my toes curl, and when we had finished, and I lay panting on our bed, I watched his pale-gold form as he left the room long enough to retrieve a lighter, which he used to spark the candle into a soft glow.

Data returned to the bed, and I moved to rest my head on his chest. I fell asleep watching the flame flicker in the glass holder, and I've never been certain just how long my lover continued to stare at it. When I woke in the morning, Data had an optical cable attached to the side of his head and by the time I'd showered and dressed for the day, he'd moved the candle to the coffee table in our living room.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46104.76**

 **(Saturday, 8 February 2369, 05:43 hours, ship's time)**

 _I was dreaming._

 _First I was watching Data and his friends play poker. I couldn't hear the bets or see the cards, I only saw the chips being exchanged: bronze, silver, gold. Then the piles of chips began to morph into other shapes… birds… pigeons…clockwork pigeons._

 _"Time to pluck a pigeon," the dream version of Miles O'Brien looked up and winked at me._

 _"Get me out of here…"_

 _The scene changed._

 _I was on a sailboat – the Intrepid, from my birthday._

 _The waves were choppy, and the boat was drifting, rather than being at anchor. The clockwork pigeon was perched on the rail, it's bright black eyes staring at me, first one, then the other, as the metal head turned back and forth. I reached to pick it up, determined to sink it so deeply into the ocean that I'd never have to see it again, but then the coppery beak opened and it started talking._

 _It started talking in the same mad voice that Lore had used when we were on his ship almost a year before. "You're really not a little girl anymore. Poor broken bird. Pigeons come home to roost. That pigeon was duly plucked. Poor broken bird. Lore can't have nice things."_

 _It was a mash-up of the words he'd spoken after he'd raped me, after the Crystalline Entity had exploded, after he'd completely snapped, and of the note he'd sent with the actual bird that had arrived on my birthday._

 _"Shut up!"_

 _But the bird kept talking, repeating the same phrases on a loop, mixing in the chief's phrases, even though he'd had nothing to do with anything. "Time to pluck a pigeon… time to pluck…. Time to…"_

 _"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"_

 _I reached for the pigeon, felt the beak pecking at my hand as I tried to grasp it. Finally, I managed to summon the necessary energy to hurl the thing into the black water, but the words still haunted me._

 _"… not a little girl… broken bird… Pigeons come home to roost…Pluck a pigeon… not a little girl…"_

 _"SHUT UP!"_

"Zoe, wake up. Zoe you are dreaming; please wake up." Data's ever-patient tone brought me out of my dream. "Zoe, you are home. I am here. Please wake up."

I opened my eyes, and saw his face hovering over me. "I'm okay," I said forcing myself to take a couple of deep breaths. "I'm awake. I'm okay."

"No you are not." Data's tone was firm, but gentle. "You have been sleeping poorly since the night of your birthday, and while this is not the first nightmare I have roused you from in that time, the frequency of your bad dreams is increasing. I believe that the toy bird Lore sent has spurred a greater awareness of the anniversary of what happened after you were taken from Melona, and your subconscious is trying to 'process' that awareness."

Even androids avoid specifics when they suspect using them would cause distress. Melona wasn't just the planet Lore had snatched me from, but the code-word we used for what had come afterward.

I sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Do you wish to tell me what you dreamed?" Talking about my nightmares with him usually helped, but lately I hadn't wanted to analyze them, rehash them, or even admit I was having them. I wanted to just ignore them and focus on the present.

"Not really," I said, the words coming out in a sharper tone than I'd meant. "I'm sorry, Data. I know you're just trying to help, and I love you for it, but I'm just… I don't want to give him one more second of conscious thought, and I don't want to talk about it."

For a moment, I thought he would argue with me. Instead, he laid back in the bed, and gathered me against him, kissing the top of my head. "Then I believe you should try to return to sleep. You were visibly exhausted yesterday at dinner and I am… concerned."

I yawned. "I am tired," I admitted. I snuggled against him, resting my head against his chest. Dimly, I realized there were a couple of padds on the nightstand on his side of the bed, and one more in the bed with us. "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"You disturbed nothing, but _I_ am sorry that your sleep is being interrupted so often. I believe discussing your nightmares would help you conquer them, but I will not force you. However, Zoe, I will remind you that I will be here when you are ready."

"I know," I said softly.

One of his arms wrapped around me. "I am devoted to you."

"I love you," I told him again. I did my best to go back to sleep, but I kept drifting back toward nightmares and waking myself up, and I knew Data was aware of, and probably logging, every single instance.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46113.86**

 **(Tuesday, 11 February 2369, 13:29 hours, ship's time)**

"You look like you could use some company. May I join you?" I looked up from the padd that was keeping me company during a late lunch in Ten-Forward, to find Guinan and one of her hats hovering near my table. I hadn't been in the mood for company, but neither had I really wanted to eat alone, so I'd chosen a table near the large window, and settled in for a late lunch and the reading that represented my internship supervisor's version of homework. Now my public solitude was being interrupted by the inscrutable barkeeper.

"Sure," I answered, moving aside a reading tablet and relocating my messenger bag to an unused chair.

"Thank you," she responded warmly, settling into the chair opposite mine. A server appeared the moment she was settled, and she ordered a cup of tea, then stared at me for a long moment. "Make it a pot, and bring a cup for Zoe as well." She paused while the server scurried away, then continued "I always enjoy the view from this window."

I had no idea why that was relevant to anything but I found myself responding anyway. "I feel like sitting here is the only way to see where we're going." I moved my eyes - not really rolling them, but in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Well, other than being on the bridge, I mean."

"Is it that important? Knowing where we're going?"

"Don't you think so?"

"I think it depends on whether or not you're looking forward in order to welcome what's coming, or because you want to defend against it."

"What if it's…" I began, but our tea arrived, and I waited for the server to place the pot and paraphernalia on the table and disappear again before continuing, "… kind of both?" She remained silent, clearly waiting for me to talk so she could Listen. (Somehow, that word was always capitalized when used with her.) "I mean… I'm excited about all the things that are coming – this internship, Yale, my future with Data… but at the same time, I feel like there's something lurking in the shadows."

"You mean Lore."

Something about Guinan killed my inherent urge to hide behind snark. "Among other things."

"Does Data believe you should be worried about Lore?"

I shook my head. "He thinks Lore is just playing mind games with me, and that he's the target this time. Which may be better for me, personally, but not for _us_."

Guinan's dark eyes seemed to glitter, though her expression was as serene as ever. "Do you remember the first piece of advice I gave you?"

"You told me to trust myself, and trust Data."

"And?"

"And what? I do trust him."

"But you're not talking to him right now."

"He told you?"

"He may have asked for advice."

"Did you tell _him_ to trust me?"

"No, I told him to invite you to the Valentine's Day dance I'm hosting."

"He did that," I confessed. "I told him I needed to think about it."

"And?" She was even better than Counselor Troi at asking leading questions.

"And what?"

"Have you thought about it?"

"I…" The truth was that I couldn't think of a reason not to go, except that every time I considered it, there was this big block of fear almost choking me. "I'm afraid," I admitted. "And I don't know why. I mean, we've been in public together, socially, tons of times. We were all over the media last fall."

"Maybe it's not the event, but the day…"

"Valentine's Day? It's the anniversary of what happened on Melona, yes, but… I mean he didn't grab me until the day _after._ "

Guinan shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong. I think you should come to the dance, though, Zoe. For Data, if not for yourself."

"For Data?"

"It's the first significant social event that you've been here for since the two of you became a couple. He was on an away mission over Christmas. You were on tour when we thought we'd lost Geordi."

I nodded. "And as a member of the command staff, he has to at least make an appearance. He's the only one who has a… partner… it would look bad if I don't go with him. I know that. I also know Data doesn't care one whit about optics."

"But he does care about being human. He does care about experiencing typical human rituals."

I hadn't actually needed Guinan to point that out. "I know this," I answered, snarking a little bit, after all. "I'm sorry," I apologized immediately. "I'm overtired and over-thinking this. It's just a dance, right? I like dancing with Data." I pushed the mostly-ignored teacup away from me and gathered my things. "Thanks for the chat," I said, "I need to get going."

"I'll see you on Friday night," Guinan said in the way that was both completely casual and utterly not.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46121.36**

 **(Friday, 14 February 2369, 07:12 hours, ship's time)**

As the week had drawn on and the dance grew closer, my sleep had come more and more fitful, to the point where I was beginning to feel like one of the zombies in the horror vids I used to love. Half the time I was having nightmares and the other half I was avoiding sleep so that I wouldn't have nightmares.

It's a scary thing to know that you've caused an android to be worried. Data wasn't pressing me to spill my guts to him - if anything he was practicing a sort of active patience with me – but I could tell he _wanted_ to make me talk, if only so that he could fix things.

Instead, I got even quieter, even more internal, and he grew more and more concerned. I was fairly certain he'd gone to Counselor Troi, but he hadn't said so, and she hadn't contacted me. I knew things would come to a head, eventually, but I didn't know how to talk about things that weren't even entirely conscious.

Valentine's Day morning I woke up to the sound of Data's singing. Unlike me, he didn't typically sing in the shower, and he didn't hum while he was doing things, despite the fact that of the two of us, he was better equipped for such multitasking. When he was singing, it was because he _meant_ to be singing, and in this case it was a love song that eased me out of the sleep I'd finally sunken into around four-thirty.

 _"What good are words I say to you?_

 _They can't convey to you what's in my heart._

 _If you could hear instead_

 _The things I've left unsaid…"_

I grabbed my cast-off sweatpants from the foot of our bed and tugged them on beneath the t-shirt I'd slept in, then padded out to the main room. Data glanced at me, and for a fraction of a second it was as if I was being hit by the full force of his devotion.

He paused long enough for me to realize he was going to greet me, but I interrupted. "Please don't stop singing? I love it when you sing."

There was the tiniest acknowledging nod and then he continued with the song, though he pressed a mug of coffee into my hand and nudged me toward the couch while my personal serenade continued.

 _"Time after time_

 _I tell myself that I'm_

 _So lucky to be loving you…"_

There was a vase of irises waiting for the table, as well as a small, square box. As soon as I saw it, I set my mug down and went to one of the drawers in the living room wall – the one that had become mine – and retrieved a box of my own. I exchanged it for my coffee mug, and sat on the couch to sip the dark brew and listen to the rest of my boyfriend's song.

 _"I only know what I know.  
The passing years will show  
You've kept my love so young, so new-_

 _And time after time,_  
 _You'll hear me say that I'm_  
 _So lucky to be loving you."_

He didn't finish with a crescendo, but softened the song into something intimate as he came to sit with me. "Happy Valentine's Day, Zoe," he added.

I answered with a coffee-stained kiss, then rested my head against his. "I don't deserve this," I said.

"Zoe?" He was honestly puzzled.

"I don't deserve presents and flowers and singing and sweetness when I'm about to disappoint you. I _want_ to go to the dance with you tonight. I really do. But I can't."

His expression was as dejected as I'd ever seen him. "Why? I will not push you to attend, but Zoe… dearest… please explain why?"

I knew he was confused and all I wanted was to erase that confusion. My mind went blank. "I don't… " I started to say. But all of a sudden, I _did_ know. "I can't go because people will die," I blurted. "Last year, I went with you to Melona, and Lore came with Phil, and people died, and it's my fault."

If my words surprised him, Data didn't show it. If anything, he seemed to almost expect what I'd said. "It was not your fault," he told me firmly. "Zoe, there is no way it could have been your fault. If Lore was tracking anyone to Melona, it was me, not you."

"No, Data, you're wrong." I'd forgotten. In the year since everything had happened, I'd had constant memories of being called pigeon and of being tossed around the deck of that ship, and of every single thing Lore had done to me, but I'd forgotten, until Data tried to assure me otherwise, of the other android's reaction. "He didn't know. Lore didn't have any idea you were on Melona. When I told him he and his… Phil… had almost killed _you_ , he had… he didn't have a clue."

"I do not remember you mentioning that," he said. "Zoe, are you certain?"

"I didn't remember. I didn't remember until I told you why I can't go. Data, I'm a jinx. I'm a curse. I was on the Starbase and Lore set the bomb _anyway_ , and then on Melona… I was there… and people died and it's my fault. It's all my fault."

I was crying and I knew I wasn't making sense, and Data's pale, gold face conveyed that he was at a loss of how to help me. "If I go to the party, something else will happen. People will die, and it will be my fault."

"Zoe, you are hysterical…" He pulled me close, holding my arms so I couldn't flail at him, speaking reassurances I couldn't even track. "It was not your fault. None of it was your fault. Zoe, please calm down. Breathe. Zoe… _breathe!_ "

But I couldn't breathe. I felt like my throat was shrinking. _Closing_. In the back of my mind, I knew I was having a panic attack, but the intellectual knowledge wasn't remotely helpful. Dimly, I realized Data was calling for medical assistance and asking the counselor to meet us there, but then my vision was blanking out and my head was spinning.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46121.86**

 **(Friday, 14 February 2369, 11:33 hours, ship's time)**

I opened my eyes half-expecting to find myself in a sickbay bio-bed, but instead I saw the familiar lines of the bedroom I shared with my partner. "Data…?" I called into the dimly lit room.

"He was called to the bridge, Zoe, but he'll be back shortly." Dr. Crusher's reassuring smile came into view as she sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

I took stock. "Thirsty," I said. "And my head hurts a little."

"Think you can sit up?"

I gave a tiny nod, and then pushed myself into a seated position, my back against the pillows. "I felt like I was choking," I said. "And I think I threw up."

"As far as I can tell, you had a panic attack. Stay put a moment." She left the room, and I heard the hum of the replicator and the sound of her voice and someone else's. Counselor Troi's, I realized when the doctor returned with water. "Drink this."

I took a careful sip but it was just cool water, so I drank more of it, a bit more aggressively. "Thanks," I said. "Is Data…" I was about to ask if he was angry with me, but I knew he couldn't actually be angry.

"He was very worried about you, but the captain needed him on the bridge. Deanna just contacted him, and he's on his way home." I nodded again, and she continued. "Have you had this happen before?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't…" but then I remembered. "No, that's wrong. Once. I had it happen once… last year… about a week after Lore…" I stopped. "When Data took the tongue stud out," I explained.

Apparently it was enough.

"Well, you're a little dehydrated, but my bigger concern is that you give every sign of being exhausted. Data said you haven't been sleeping well; how long has that been going on?"

"Since my birthday," I admitted. "But steadily worse as it's gotten closer to today."

"Oh, Zoe, why didn't you come see me?"

"I thought I could handle it. And I didn't want people fussing over me." I rolled my eyes. "Kind of had enough of that last year."

Her smile held humor this time. "I can understand that, I suppose." She ran her tricorder over me again, then popped it back into her case. "I should give you a sedative to ensure that you sleep, but I have a feeling you'll be able to now that you've let out whatever you were keeping inside. I'm going to go, but I'm sending the Counselor in, and I urge you to cooperate with her." The last few words had that warning tone that my mother used to get when I was thinking of misbehaving. "And don't be angry with Data, Zoe. He was right to call."

I nodded again. "I'm not angry with him. I'm worried he's disappointed in me."

"He isn't," the counselor chimed in from the doorway. "Do you mind talking with me a while, Zoe?"

I glanced at the doctor first, before I snarked. "Do I have a choice?" But I was kidding. Mostly.

The doctor patted my knee through the covers. "That's my cue. Call me if you need anything."

"I will."

She left the room, and the counselor came closer.

"May I sit?"

"Sure."

Troi took the spot the doctor had been occupying. "You've been avoiding me since your birthday," she said with no judgement in her tone. "Have I done something to cause you not to trust me?"

"Not exactly," I said.

"Can you explain?"

I drank some more water, forming the words I wanted to say. "First, I was just… I was home, and I hadn't even had a bad dream since September, and except for when we found the stupid bird, I was fine. And then that ambassador hurt you, and I didn't know if I should visit as a sort of friend, or if I should wait until you were better, and finally… you always want me to talk about things, and I'm so tired of talking about Lore. I feel like he raped my whole life… and it's been a _year_ … and I was _better_."

"You've been doing extremely well," she agreed. "At least until recently."

"I was better," I repeated. "I managed to get through everything over the summer without help, and then he sent that thing, and everything went wonky in my head…" I paused. "And I wanted to come see you, but you were the one who sent me to Gratz."

"Gratz… the therapist on Earth?"

"For those values of 'therapist' that equal 'complete and total asshole,'" I confirmed.

"Oh, Zoe. I didn't know… I didn't know he was a confrontational therapist, and I certainly didn't know he would pick apart your relationship with Data. If I'd thought for one moment that he would, I'd never have given you his name."

"But he _did_ ," I said. "And he made me… he made me question it. And I had been better. I _am_ better." I felt myself dissolving into tears again.

"You are better than you were," the counselor said soothingly. "Zoe, you are. But what you went through – it takes years for most people to get completely over it, and some people never do."

I swallowed back the tears. "I'm supposed to be an adult now," I said. "Aren't I supposed to be stronger than this?"

"You are strong." Data's voice, from the bedroom door. I hadn't even heard him come home. "May I enter?"

"It's your bedroom, too," I reminded him, but the words came out wavery.

Data crossed the room and came to sit next to me, his back also against the pillows. I could almost see him make the decision to drop his officer persona and just be boyfriend-Data. His arm went around my shoulders, and he placed a kiss on top of my head. "I am sorry I had to leave while you were… indisposed."

I glanced from the counselor to my partner. "It's okay. I haven't really been awake that long. Only enough for the doctor to lecture me about sleep deprivation."

The counselor met Data's eyes over my head. Then she returned her focus to me. "Zoe, Data mentioned that you feel to blame for the deaths of the two colonists on Melona. I know that we talked at length about what happened while you were with Lore, but maybe I should have backtracked. I think we all forgot that you aren't an officer. Data said you remained calm and poised throughout the evacuation."

"I heard their screams," I said. "All the kids had their parents hugging them, and I couldn't get those screams out of my head, and… I don't think I even processed it… I didn't know it was still a thing until Data invited me to the dance and I didn't immediately jump at it."

"I am afraid that I did not recognize your lack of enthusiasm as a 'warning sign,'" the android added. "Even after our conversation about socializing more as a couple." He hesitated. "I assumed you were merely being coy."

"Hi, how long have we been a couple?" I twisted around to put a finger across his lips. "Don't answer that. But Data, when have I ever been coy with you?"

I saw the counselor arch an eyebrow, and was willing to bet that she was stifling laughter. She schooled her features, though, and said. "Zoe, I'm very sorry that I wasn't clear earlier. I do consider you a friend, and I would have welcomed a visit from you when I was recuperating. I'm also sorry that we never discussed the actual attack on Melona, last year. We know _now_ that you have unresolved guilt over what happened, but I promise it was _not_ your fault."

I closed my eyes for a long moment, and just concentrated on feeling Data's arm around me, strong and supportive. When I opened my eyes again, I felt much more centered. "Does this mean I'm seeing you on Thursday afternoons again?"

"Do you want to see me on Thursday afternoons?"

I considered it for a long moment. "I guess you're right about how long it takes to heal," I finally began. "Most days I'm fine, but then something will send me into a spiral, and while Data is pretty awesome –" I felt, rather than heard, his non-verbal reaction. "- he can't be my only support system. I'm not going to say I'll never need counseling again, but I think… I think maybe, if you don't mind, what I really need is a friend who isn't either Data's student or an extreme subordinate."

The counselor smiled. "I think that's a very _adult_ point of view. Shall we set up a lunch date for Monday?"

I laughed softly. "Tuesday would actually be better for me."

"Alright then…" she got up. "Tuesday it is." She glanced at Data. "Don't get up," she told him. "I'll see you both at the dance?"

Data deferred to me for a response. "We'll be there," I promised. "And Couns – _Deanna_ -?" She gave me her wide-eyed 'encouraging' look from the doorway. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Zoe. Data."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46123.20**

 **(Friday, 14 February 2369, 23:17 hours, ship's time)**

We spent most of the afternoon at home. Lasso had given me the day off anyway, and while Data did leave to attend to things on the bridge every so often, he worked from the console in our quarters most of the day.

At six, we paused to exchange gifts. My present for him was a data solid with an original Sherlock Holmes adventure – The Case of the Exsanguinated Actress – that Lachlan and a couple of the other members of Idyllwild had helped me write during the down time on tour. "Moriarty isn't in it," I promised him, having long since been told the story of the holographic villain. "But Irene Adler might be."

"I shall look forward to it," he had responded, the gleam in his eye telling me just how much.

His gift to me was jewelry again, and after I had opened it, I had watched his fingers release the cords on the string of beads he'd first fastened around my wrist a little more than two years before. "Data?"

"These beads were given to the girl you were two years ago," he said. "They commemorated your sixteenth birthday, and marked a deepening friendship. More than once, in the last year, you have had to remove them because they were no longer appropriate for the woman you have become. I do not expect you to put them away forever, but I would like to offer this as a more suitable adornment."

His formal language both made me grin, and set my imagination spinning toward another kind of jewelry he would likely be presenting to me one day. The gold tennis bracelet he wrapped around my wrist had made my breath catch when I saw it nestled against the velvet in the box, but when he fastened it in place my pulse increased, and I knew he could feel it as much as I could.

"Data, it's beautiful. Thank you." I pulled his face to mine so I could kiss him, and we ended up rumpled (both of us) and breathless (me) on the couch with just enough time to change into party clothes and make an appearance in Ten-Forward.

Deanna, I noticed, was watching me carefully the whole time we were there, as if she wanted to make sure I was going to be alright.

We shared a dinner table with the O'Briens, Geordi, and Christy Henshaw, danced several dances, including a slightly risqué tango, and then Data guided me back out to the corridor. "If you are amenable," he began. "I would like to show you something on the bridge before we go back to our quarters."

A year ago, I would have balked about that, but ever since my visit in October, I'd become more and more interested in seeing Data's primary workplace. "Sure," I said, trying to sound casual and failing.

"Late night, Mr. Data?" Commander Riker asked, but he noticed me before my partner could respond. "Ah. You want to show Zoe the view. Enjoy."

We took positions behind the horseshoe that cradled the command chairs, and Data asked the duty ensign at ops to show the forward view of the ship. There on the screen was a giant swath of solid black, which resolved into a curved surface. "We arrived here less than an hour ago," he explained quietly. "We were tracking a seventy-five-year-old distress signal, and it led us to this. It seems to be a Dyson sphere," he added. "It is essentially a self-contained solar system – there is a sun inside the sphere."

"Cooooool." I breathed, keeping my voice low.

"Seeing such a creation is a once-in-a-lifetime experience," he told me. "I wished for you to share it with me, in some fashion."

We lingered a few minutes longer, but when the lights dimmed and the shift change occurred at midnight, we made our way out.

"Thank you," I said, looping my hands through his proffered arm. "For the view, and the bracelet, and your patience, and for…"

We stepped into the turbo-lift and he met my lips in a kiss.

"… everything."

I wish I could say that my sleep that night was nightmare free, but the truth is, we didn't really get much sleep. We talked and made love and talked some more, and when I finally did succumb to sleep around zero-seven-thirty, it was deep and satisfying.

Maybe I wasn't entirely healed; maybe I never would be. But with the help of the man I loved and all of his – all of _our_ – friends, at least I made it through Valentine's Day.

* * *

 **Notes:** Hello, darlings! I'm so sorry to have been away so long. First we were remodeling, and then I blew out my knee and was on heavy painkillers for about a week, and I'm still in recovery (I can now walk from my bedroom to my kitchen without crutches) and I get tired very easily.

This chapter begins shortly after "Man of the People" and ends just before "Relics," but most references are internal.

Canon has the date of Data's permanent activation as 2 February 2338. (References to his age, and the rest of his chronology within the CRUSHverse use this date as the starting point. This is three years after Soong initially activated him.)

 _Yahrzeit_ candles are typically lit on the anniversary of a loved one's death.

Data's first poker game – the first of many poker games we see in TNG – takes place in the teaser of "Measure of a Man."

"Time after Time" was initially released in 1946, and has lyrics by Sammy Cahn and music by Jule Styne. It's been covered by _everyone_ , but almost no one records the first four lines (Rod Stewart did, and Tony Bennett did.) The more conventional (abbreviated) version was recorded by some actor named Brent Spiner on his album _Ol' Yellow Eyes is Back,_ and you can hear it on the YouTube playlist SOSTENUTO which you can find here: www DOT youtube DOT com SLASH playlist?list=PLaBIyUJVFQIKTXjtX1X7t6Q-cNRajmJs2


	3. Here Today

**Here Today**

* * *

 **Stardate 46126.35**

 **(Sunday, 16 February 2369, 02:52 hours, ship's time)**

It was the jolting of the ship that pulled me from sleep, though, since I'd been on the verge of a nightmare, I was relieved enough that it took a moment for me to process it. There weren't any klaxons, and I didn't hear an emergency alert warning people to gather in designated shelter areas, so I stayed there, lying against the pillows, for a while.

Data was on the bridge, I knew, and I was tempted to comm him and ask if something was wrong, but at the same time, I didn't want to interrupt him for anything less than an emergency, and if something dire had happened, I trusted that he would let me know.

A second jolt, almost as if something was tugging the ship, roused Spot from her repose on my partner's unused pillow. She swiped at my hair with her paw, then bounced down the bed to land on my bladder.

That cat had an unerring knack for pouncing me in the bladder.

"Oof, Spot, this is _not_ the way to win friends and influence people," I grumbled, as much because it amused me as because I thought it would work. She did nothing to relieve the situation so I resorted to rolling onto my side, so she'd have to move, which she did… reluctantly.

Thus awakened, I left the bed and padded to the bathroom.

I was still there when Data returned from his shift. "Zoe?" His voice held a note of confusion when he called my name. He'd expected to find me in bed, at least, if not actually asleep.

"In here!" I called.

My partner, the man who had had no compunctions about using his own body to close a circuit during a ship-wide disaster, paused in the open bathroom doorway. "I will… wait…" he said averting his eyes.

I rolled my eyes at him. "Seriously? You can watch me take a bath, but you can't talk to me while I'm sitting on the toilet?"

"It is not appro – "

I shouldn't have found it funny. I mean, this was the main who had, two years before, failed to see why it might have been awkward having a sixteen-year-old girl staying in his quarters for a week. I was accustomed to his inherent reserve, but this reaction was atypical from him.

"Not appropriate? Data, really?" He raised his head and his yellow eyes met my brown ones. "It's not like you're some stranger," I reminded him, my tone gentle. "We live together. We exchange bodily fluids on a regular basi – "

"Forgive me, dearest," he interrupted me, "but my research on intimate relationships suggests that some 'bodily fluids' are more appropriate than others."

Snark from Data always amused me, and he was getting better and better at it. "Research, huh?" I asked, teasing him.

"Research and observation," he amended."

"Hmh." I imitated his signature non-verbal noise.

"Zoe?"

"It's just that… I never pegged you for a prude."

My tone was perfectly level, and it got the response I'd hoped for: a slight uplifting of his eyebrows and his own utterance of the same sound. "Hmh."

I could tell he was about to protest my assessment, but I spoke before he could. "Anyway, I'm done now, so why don't you go wait elsewhere, lest I offend what's left of your modesty." I spoke the last several words in a teasing tone. He turned away, closing the bathroom door as he left, and I couldn't help the chuckle that escaped. I finished my business, washed my hands, and went back to our bedroom, where he was sitting primly on edge of the bed.

I stopped directly in front of him. Before he could speak, I leaned down for a quick kiss to his lips. He let his knees fall apart, and I stepped between them, pressing against him. His head was at the level of my breasts, and he placed a kiss in the deep V of the t-shirt I'd worn to bed, while my hands landed in his hair, ruffling it, and smoothing it again. Being able to play with his hair was one of my favorite privileges of girlfriend-hood.

"You're home early," I observed. He'd been scheduled to be on duty until at least zero-six-hundred.

" _You_ are awake early." The unasked question was in his tone: _Did you have another nightmare?_

"There was a jolt," I said, ignoring the question he hadn't asked. "And I waited for an announcement or klaxons, but there weren't any, and then there was another and your cat landed on top of me."

"I have observed that Spot is always 'my cat' when her behavior annoys you," he said, bringing his arms around me, and clasping his hands just above my buttocks. "The jolts you felt were the result of the Dyson sphere's gravitational pull. We have compensated. We have also found the _Jenolan_ , a private craft that crashed into the outer surface of the sphere approximately seven decades ago."

"Is that where the distress signal was coming from?"

"Yes. We are currently running scans, and an away team will visit the ship later today."

"What time should I start worrying?" This question was becoming another of our rituals, a way for me to better cope with Data being in dangerous situations.

"There will be no need to worry about me at all; I was not assigned to this mission."

"Oh." I wasn't sure if I should be relieved for myself or disappointed for him. I knew he truly enjoyed the opportunity to explore new places and things.

"I will have to spend much of the day on the bridge, however."

Having determined that my partner's hair was suitably mussed, I moved my hands to his shoulders. "Do you have to report back right away?"

"I am not due back until ten-hundred hours."

"Got any plans between now and then?"

He knew exactly what I was really asking. "I had expected merely to hold you while you slept," he said.

"But I'm not sleeping."

"No, you are not." Had I imagined the slight shift in his voice? I didn't think so, but I was never entirely certain.

I let my hands wander, teasing the back of his neck, and then fiddling with the collar of his uniform jacket. "Sleep is overrated," I said, and kissed him again before he could argue with me.

The head tilt that followed my assault on his lovely cashew-flavored mouth was one I recognized as calculating. He lifted me and rolled backwards and sideways so we were on the bed with him hovering over me. "I appear to be overdressed," he commented.

"We can fix that."

Something else of which I wasn't entirely certain: Data may have set a speed record for removing a Starfleet uniform that morning, even accounting for the extra time he spent divesting me of my t-shirt mid-process.

After our lovemaking, when I was sated and slightly muzzy and cradled against Data's chest, I asked, "Are there ever missions you aren't assigned to, that you wish you were?"

"It is typical for the best-suited members of the crew to be assigned to any away mission."

"That's not what I was asking."

"Then, please elaborate."

"Well, like this mission… you're not going, but don't you wish you were? Or… the thing in San Francisco at Christmas… the captain kept you aboard to try to protect you, but didn't you _want_ to just go figure out the mystery?"

"There are times," he answered slowly, "when an away mission will include situations I am singularly qualified to assess or defuse. There are other times when I am not the best choice, and there are still other times when less experienced officers are selected for a mission with the intent of giving them much-needed experience. I am incapable of experiencing resentment, and I do not believe there is any mission I have been held back from when I have expressed interest." He paused, and added, "At least, that has been true since I have been part of the _Enterprise_ crew."

"Dotty told me you weren't always treated very well… before."

"That is an understatement."

"I'm sorry you had to experience that," I said. "There are times," I echoed his phrasing intentionally, "when I wish I could go back in time, meet you _then_ , and be with you your whole life." I wrinkled my nose. "Except, if I'd met you when you were at the Academy, I'd be old and saggy now."

"I do not believe I would have been ready for such a relationship then," Data admitted quietly. "But I appreciate the sentiment. He paused a moment then added. "I also do not believe you would have grown… saggy."

"Guess we'll have to revisit that question in twenty or thirty years," I was only half-teasing. I could have bantered with him a while longer but I _was_ tired, so I ordered the computer to extinguish the lights and let the _thrum_ of my lover's internal systems and the steady rhythm of his pulse lull me back to sleep.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46127.93**

 **(Sunday, 16 February 2369, 16:41 hours, ship's time)**

"Okay, spill," I instructed my best friend Dana. We were sprawled on her bed with several readers strewn between us – an array of popular magazines, novels, and reading assignments. "How are things going with Loverb – " She glowered at me before I finished her boyfriend's nickname. " – Ethan?" I corrected less smoothly than I would have liked.

"Things are… good," she said. "I mean, the day after I spent the night in his quarters for the first time, Dad had two security officers follow him around just… lurking… but then he came to dinner, and my father backed off some."

"Every time you talk about your father, I'm grateful my mother is a scientist," I confessed. The truth was, Lt. Swenson was a competent security specialist, and often served as Lt. Worf's replacement when the gruff Klingon was on an away mission.

"And every time I hear about you getting another gift from You-Know-Who, I'm glad my father does what he does," she countered.

"There's only been the one gift," I pointed out. "And his name is Lore. Calling him 'You-Know-Who' just makes him feel scarier."

"Really? I don't think I'd want to be reminded of…"

I cut her off. "Really." I said. And then, immediately contrite, I apologized. "I'm sorry, I just… can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," she said. "Actually, I was going to tell you anyway: I got into RISD."

"Rizz-Dee? Where's that. _What_ is that?"

She grinned at me. "I can't believe there's something the great Zoificus doesn't know," she teased.

"Hey! I know a lot of things!"

"Well, you didn't know this thing, and I count that as a win."

"Fine, you win. What's Rizz-Dee?"

"RISD." She ticked off the letters on her fingers, explaining, "Rhode Island School of Design," she said proudly. "I'm going to art school."

I stared at my friend, noticing for the first time that she'd stopped wearing her blonde hair in utilitarian pony-tails, and that her blue eyes were enhanced by just a touch of eye shadow. No wonder Ethan Lovejoy had fallen for her. My best friend wasn't just talented; she was gorgeous. When had she changed, I wondered, and had I changed, too?

"Zoe? Some kind of response would be nice."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I think I just had one of those moments when you realize you're grown up. Art school is _stellar_ , Dana. Stel-lar. I'm beyond happy for you. I would totally hug you if it didn't mean moving."

She laughed. "That's okay." Then, in a quieter tone she asked, "Have you been having a lot of those moments recently? Because I know I have."

"Yeah," I confessed. "A couple weeks ago Data and I were at dinner with Keiko and Chief O'Brien, and we were all teasing Data a little, and… and there was this part of me that felt like I was sort of outside myself, watching a holo-vid of a dinner party."

Dana blinked at me. "I'm having another one of those moments right now," she said. "The image of you and Data being on a date with another couple…"

"It wasn't a date; it was just dinner. In their quarters. To celebrate his…" I trailed off. "Okay, it was a date, and god, I sound so old. I mean… my _mother_ has evenings out with other couples." I wrinkled my nose at the thought."

"Yes, you're positively ancient, Zo', and I'll always be five months younger than you." Dana sing-songed merrily. "Focus on the important factor here."

"Important factor?" I felt like I'd missed something crucial.

"RISD is in _Rhode Island_ ," she said. "You're going to be in _Connecticut._ Not only are they both on Earth, they're super-close to each other. We'll be able to hang out on weekends if we want to."

"We will?" It took a moment for me to process what she'd said. "Oh, my god, we _will_."

We hung out for a while longer, but then I excused myself to meet Ray at the pool. I'd missed a couple of our swimming sessions, and was craving time in the water. Still, I hesitated at the door that led out to the corridor. "Listen, Dana, do you and Ethan have plans tonight?"

My best friend shook her head, "Not tonight; why?"

"Data's doing an extended shift on the bridge," I said. "And I kind of… I kind of need to not be alone tonight." I wasn't accustomed to asking people for help, at least, not preemptively. "It's the anniversary – today, I mean – is the anniversary of my rape, and I just… I really don't want to be alone tonight."

Dana's response was instantaneous. "I'll comm Josh. We'll meet you at Da – _your_ – quarters around seven for junk food and board games. If Serena doesn't need Rryl tonight, I'll ask him, too."

Impulsively, I hugged my best friend. "I love you," I told her. "Thank you."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46128.41**

 **(Sunday, 16 February 2369, 20:53 hours, ship's time)**

"I have 'jump' as a skill," Rryl said. "What do I roll to successfully jump from one ship to the other?"

Josh, who was acting as the game master for the roleplaying game we'd chosen instead of the board games we typically relied on, referred to a padd and gave the response, adding, "But I'm going to add a drama die to the mix, so if you make it, you'll earn more."

We all performed our actions, explaining what our characters were doing. "I'm rolling to use my porting skill to transfer an active explosive from our ship to the enemy's," I added.

"Drama die for that as well." Josh's reply was almost perfunctory. "Wait… you have to rip open a pocket of otherspace, then direct the object through it… tell you what, increase the difficulty by five and I'll give you _two_ drama die."

"Deal."

We rolled our dice, and began tallying points. I was about to provide my total when door opened, and Data entered. I'd warned him that I'd be having friends over, so it wasn't a surprise to find our quarters filled with my friends, but I saw the merest flicker of indecision cross his pale gold features as he came to stand behind my chair.

I was pretty sure a far less subtle version of the same expression was evident on my own face, and I was about to excuse myself from the game for a few minutes, when my partner beat me to the punch. Bending slightly, he brushed a chaste kiss across my lips, then straightened and addressed all of us. "I apologize for interrupting your game," he said, but then he added, "Zoe, may I have a moment?"

I glanced at my friends, none of whom were objecting. "Back in a flash," I said. I left the table and followed Data to our bedroom. "Is something wrong?"

"Not as such, no. I wished to 'check in' with you in person and assure myself that you were well."

"I am," I promised. "I probably wouldn't have been, but Dana and the boys cleared their evenings to hang out with me."

"It is good that you have maintained your friendship."

"Yeah," I said. "It is. I'm glad you encouraged me to." It had been Data, after all, who had cautioned me about moving away from them too quickly. "Did you really come home just to check on me?"

"I did," he said. "Your sleep is still fitful, and I am aware of what day this is. While I will likely be home by midnight, I wished to assure myself that all is well."

"It's… well enough," I said. "I've been a little jumpy, a little edgy all day, and having people around is helping…"

"But…?" Data knew me too well.

"But I keep expecting another pigeon to arrive."

"If that should happen while I am on duty, do not hesitate to contact me. In the meantime, I must return to the bridge, and you must return to your friends. I will be home in three poin –" He stopped and amended his estimate to "- a few hours."

I stepped closer, slipping my arms around him for a hug that didn't last long enough. He kissed the top of my head, and we left the bedroom together, to find Dana glowering, Rryl staring at the surface of the table, and Josh smirking. Data headed back to the bridge and I resumed my seat.

"So, what, he comes home for quickies now?" Josh asked. "I mean, with android speed, you totally had…"

"Joshua… you have a girlfriend, right?"

"Nedra," he confirmed.

"If you ever want to satisfy her again, you'll stop the teasing." I lowered my voice and filled it with just enough menace to reach him. We were friends, but sometimes Josh pushed a little too far.

"Sorry, Zoe." He was sheepish.

"It's okay," I said. "So, did my _porté_ work?"

We all snapped back into game mode. "It did," he said, "But you neglected to close your eyes when you reached through the portal, and you were touched by the entities inside."

"And that means?"

"You take a health hit, but Rryl's jump was successful. Now he needs to rescue Dana and jump or swing back before the explosive completes its countdown. The ship is smoky from canon-fire and musket-fire and people are screaming. Some of the younger pirates are jumping over the side… "

"I roll to pluck the strings of fate, and convince the captain of the pirate ship to fall for me, and be convinced to let me go," Dana said.

"Didn't you have star-crossed as a flaw?" Josh again, with the gleam in his eye that meant he was

"Yes… why?" She rolled the dice and tallied her points. "That's success, isn't it?" Dana was never the most confident player when we chose these types of games.

"Yes, but when you pluck the strings of fate, fate answers back. The captain does succumb to your seduction, but it backfires – you fall for him as well."

"Josh!" Dana protested. If she'd had a napkin in her hand, she'd likely have thrown it at him.

"You shouldn't play a fate witch if you can't handle what fate deals out," he snarked. I sat back and watched them bicker. They weren't dating each other anymore, but as friends, their connection was undeniable, and their complete unaffectedness gave me just the comfort and familiarity I needed that night.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46130.88**

 **(Monday, 17 February 2369, 18:32 hours, ship's time)**

I'd been tired all day. Data had, indeed, arrived home around midnight, just as our game was breaking up, and when my friends had all gone, he and I had some decompression time on the couch with mint tea.

"There was a survivor on the _Jenolan_ ," he revealed. "Captain Montgomery Scott; perhaps you have heard the name?"

"I know there was an engineer named Scott on an older _Enterprise_. He served under… Kirk, right?" I waited for Data's nod of affirmation. "But that can't be the same guy, can it? I mean, he'd have to be about a gazillion years old."

"It is the very same 'guy,'" Data told me, the last word sounding distinctly wrong coming out of his mouth, even with the audible quotation marks. "But he is only one hundred forty-six point four-two-seven years old."

"I thought he was an engineer."

"He is."

"But he's a captain?"

"As we discussed once before, 'captain' is can be a position and a rank, and one can be one, or the other, or both. In this case Captain Scott is a captain of engineering."

"Got it," I said, racking my brain for the original conversation. The memory came, but wasn't really relevant, so after a beat I asked, "Can I meet him?"

"It is likely that you will."

But that had been Sunday night. By six hundred hours Monday morning, I still hadn't slept, though it wasn't for lack of trying. Three times, Data had gently pulled me out of nightmares I couldn't escape, and kept falling back into. When a fourth bad dream had moved from a mere nightmare into a full-on flashback, and I'd knocked a padd out of his hands and across our bedroom, Data had made an executive decision, and contacted both Dr. Crusher and Lasso.

The former had arrived with a drug meant to suppress dreams. "I hate to use this," she said. "But Data says you've been sleep-deficient for days, and we need to break that cycle. It won't knock you out, but it will keep the nightmares at bay. I want you to skip your classes duty shifts tomorrow, and get some rest while it's in your system."

"I have already contacted Lt. Prerr and warned him that Zoe would be staying home."

"Without asking me?" I objected, bristling slightly.

"As second officer it is within the scope of my duties to relieve a crew member who is not functioning at full capacity," he stated in what I referred to as his 'officer-y' voice. But then in a softer tone, he added, "As your partner, it also within the scope of my duties to insist that you take care of yourself, is it not?" The faint note of uncertainty in his voice was enough to melt the slight anger I'd exhibited.

"Yes, it is," I answered, somewhat sheepishly. "Thank you…" I trailed off, not sure what I was really thanking him for. Doing his job? Caring for me when I needed someone outside myself to do so? Just being there?

The hiss of the hypo-spray against my neck distracted me from trying to finish my sentence. "There you go, Zoe. I'm going to suggest you also replicate a mug of warm milk to help you get back to sleep. There's a blend on file that has nutmeg in it. Comes highly recommended."

The notion of drinking warm milk was only slightly less gross than that of eating fresh _gagh_ , but I promised to do so anyway. "I'll try," I said.

The doctor left, and Data went to replicate the milk. "You're going to watch me to ensure I actually drink this, aren't you?" I asked accusingly.

"Do you expect anything less?" he countered.

I rolled my eyes at him, but I dutifully drank the warm creamy beverage and observed, "You added vanilla." I even managed a sincere, if sleepy, smile. "I think I'm ready to try sleeping again," I said. "I'm sorry you didn't get any work done tonight."

His answer was to stack all of his padds and readers on the far side of the nightstand, join me in the bed, and dim the lights. "May I hold you?" he asked, though he didn't really wait for my agreement before he drew me to lie nestled against him, with my head on his chest. "Zoe, the work I was doing was a personal project, not crucial to the function of the ship. You are more important to me than such things. Please do not worry. Just rest."

I tried, but even with the dream suppressor in my system, I was afraid to go back to sleep, and we ended up just lying in the dark talking softly, until I finally drifted off just as Data was leaving for the bridge.

"I will check on you in four hours," my falling-asleep brain heard him say, before he placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Rest well."

Ten and a half hours later, having slept and showered, I ventured into Ten-Forward to meet Data for dinner. I saw him at the bar, chatting with a portly older man in a uniform I'd only ever seen in history books, but something about their body language made me refrain from joining them.

I watched as Data went behind the bar to retrieve something from Guinan's secret stash, and then present it to the man – it must have been Captain Scott. They chatted a little longer, and then the older man moved past me and out of the lounge, bottle in hand.

I crossed the room and met my boyfriend with the observation, "He doesn't look a hundred and forty-six."

"He survived by locking the transporter into an endless diagnostic cycle."

"Wait… he was in the transporter for… how long exactly?"

"Seventy years."

"Wow."

"Indeed."

We chose a table, and had a quiet dinner, chatting more about Captain Scott. "When I was a kid, we all used to play Starfleet, pretending our surfboards were fighter drones, or the sailboats were starships. There's an island not far offshore from the Beach Haven Yacht Club, and I can't remember how many pretend missions we all went on, and how many of the boys - well, girls, too, but mostly the boys - wanted to be Captain Kirk."

"You did not?"

"Naah. I always wanted to be the space pirate who got away with murder. Villains – fictional ones, anyway – are way more fun."

Wryly, well, wryly for _him,_ Data observed, "This explains much about your personality."

I had no argument for that, but after I'd eaten the last bite of the vegetarian _pad Thai_ we'd been sharing, I asked, "Do you think someday kids will pretend to be Captain Picard and Commander Data?"

"It is not something I have ever considered," he responded.

I was _definitely_ going to have to find a 'Starfleet Commander' action figure and paint it gold, just to tease him.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46132.89**

 **(Tuesday, 18 February 2369, 12:07 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up on Tuesday feeling a bit 'off' and when using the bathroom burned, I made it a point to stop by sickbay after Lasso's ritual Tuesday morning coffee & conversation session with everyone doing a Protocol rotation, which basically meant almost everyone except me and one other civilian from the Federation Diplomatic Corps was wearing Command red or Operations Gold. It was like being stuck inside a ground-based traffic signal. All we were missing was green.

En route, Counselor Troi comm'd me, telling me she had to reschedule our lunch. A patient needed her. Since we weren't in the same room, I wondered if she could tell that I was oddly relieved. I wasn't sure I was quite ready for a meal with Deanna-the-friend after years of sessions with Troi-the-Counselor.

The ship's medical center was pretty quiet when I arrived, and Dr. Crusher activated a privacy shield as soon as she heard what I said. Her scans didn't take long. The first was just to make sure I wasn't having a late reaction to the dream suppressor, and the second confirmed what we both already suspected. "Well, Zoe, you have a urinary tract infection." She loaded a hypo-spray, explaining, "I'm giving you an antibiotic, and you should be fine by the end of the day. You should refrain from having sexual intercourse for few days, though," she added.

"How long is a few?" I asked.

"Come talk in my office." Her face betrayed slight embarrassment for a fraction of a second. Or… maybe not embarrassment but possibly discomfort. Whatever it was, her professional demeanor was back before I could ask what I'd said that was wrong.

"Doctor?"

"Wait until Friday," she said. Once we'd settled into chair on opposite sides of her desk, she continued in a gentler tone, asking, "Zoe, how frequently do you and Data have sex?"

"It depends on what's going on," I said. "When I was still living with Mom, it was limited to weekends. When we were on Hunter's Moon, or in San Francisco, it was almost every night… and now it's… well, the last week or so has been more intense than usual, I guess." I paused, searching her face for a reaction, even if it was a judgmental one, but found nothing to betray her thoughts. "Why?" I asked. "What's normal?"

Her professional veneer dissipated into something almost maternal, and she patted my shoulder in what I think was meant to be comforting. "Oh, Zoe. I forget sometimes how young you are. First, there's no such thing as 'normal.' Some couples have sex fairly frequently, others barely have any, especially if they've been together a long time. And, as you said, it can depend a lot on external circumstances. You've had the mandatory health classes, right? You know that too-frequent sex can increase the likelihood of a UTI?"

I shook my head. "I missed that session, I think." My tone was only slightly sheepish.

"Alright, well, I'm going to send some information to your padd. Be sure to read it." Those last five words were uttered in an admonishing tone. "Also remember that it's important to stay hydrated – " that was actually her standard advice no matter what "- and if you urinate right after sexual intercourse it will help you avoid getting another UTI in the future."

I managed not to blush at that last bit of information – barely. "Got it," I said.

"Good." She paused a moment, then added with her usual good humor, "Now get outta here!"

I laughed. "I'll do that; thank you."

I left her office only to be greeted by the loud, Scottish-accented complaint. "Och! Yer a Vulcan _and_ a doctor? Seems bloody unfair. Listen, lassie, I didna come here fer a lecture. I just need a painkiller t'take the headache away."

"And I would be remiss if I did not remind you that you would not be experiencing a headache at all if you had limited yourself to synthehol instead of imbibing half a bottle of whatever you had." The responding voice belonged to Dr. Selar, and the man she was arguing with in the middle of sickbay was Captain Scott.

More specifically, it was a bleary-eyed, pale-faced, kind of droopy-looking Captain Scott, who admitted. "Lass, it was more like three quarters of a bottle. Yer captain barely had any."

As Vulcans go, Selar was pretty expressive, so there was a noticeable softening of her tone when she asked the living legend standing in front of her, "Can you remember what it was? You said it was green."

I glanced at Dr. Crusher who, like me, seemed to be fighting not to chuckle, though she was also visibly concerned.

"Green, aye. 'Twas in a frosted glass bottle with a stopper. Illegible label…" He described the bottle he'd been drinking from, and recognition sparked a memory from before my mother had brought me to the _Enterprise_.

"Aldebaran whiskey," I blurted, causing Captain Scott and both doctors to turn sharply and look at me. "Wasn't it?"

"How does a snip of a girl like ye know about whiskey?" Scott asked the question I'm sure Dr. Crusher really wanted to.

"Well, I'm just guessing," I said. "But I used to sneak drinks from a bottle like that in my father's liquor cabinet, and the riot act he read me when I got caught was both informative and memorable. Aldebaran whiskey isn't cheap."

"Nae, lass, the good stuff rarely is."

Dr. Selar was already setting up a hypo. "This will counteract most of your… hangover. I suggest your next task be to eat a healthy meal." The hypo hissed against his neck and the tension around his eyes lessened.

"Captain Scott," Dr. Crusher had been standing back, allowing her colleague to treat the visiting engineer, but just then, she involved herself. "This is Zoe Harris. She's a student who lives here on the ship. Why don't you let her escort you to Ten-Forward and have lunch with you? I'm sure some of your stories would be very educational."

The gruff Scotsman looked at me, and immediately changed his demeanor, relaxing his posture and softening his expression even further. "'Tis a pleasure to meet you, lass. Call me Scotty."

"It's an honor to meet you, Scotty," I replied. "Do you like Mexican food? I'm told that tacos are the ultimate food for curing hangovers."

"Tacos ye say?" the portly engineer chuckled. "In my day it was black pudding Scotch eggs. Have you ever had them? I finally managed to cajole the replicators on the old _Enterprise_ to spit out a decent recipe just before we took the old girl into battle against Khan…"

We continued our chat as we moved into the corridor, with me asking the occasional question, and pretty much just letting the man babble. His accent was pleasant to listen to, and he was an excellent storyteller. "Khan… wasn't he one of the leaders of the Eugenics Wars?"

"Aye," he said.

"But I thought Starfleet came much later?"

"Oh, aye. But you see, Khan Noonien Singh was a smart man. He escaped the aftermath of the wars by heading into space on a sleeper ship, and it was around Stardate three-one-four-one that we happened upon him and his cadre adrift in the _Botany Bay_ …"

His story continued on while we found a table in the lounge, and I ordered tacos and horchata – also a good post-hangover choice – but part of me was stuck on the name, and wondering if Khan Noonien Singh had any connection to Dr. Noonian Soong.

"So, was that when you managed to replicate adequate Scotch eggs?"

"Och! Nae. That was a decade or more later. Captain Kirk had been promoted to Admiral and Mr. Spock was captain of the _Enterprise_ when we ran into Khan the second time…" and he launched into another reminiscence pausing only to crunch a taco or sip the horchata.

It was nearly two hours later that Data and Geordi interrupted us, and by then a few of my friends and several of the youngest officers on the ship had gathered around our table, listening to the old engineer spin yarns.

"And so I beamed the whole kit an' caboodle of 'em into the Klingons' engine room - " Scotty was saying, but he paused before the punch line he'd clearly set us up for to acknowledge the two senior officers with a nod before finishing, "- where I'm certain they were no tribble at all."

Geordi's trademark laughter joined everyone else's while I caught my boyfriend's 'accessing' expression out of the corner of my eye. It was the chief engineer who spoke though. "Captain Scott, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if I could have a moment of your advice."

Scotty looked around at his rapt audience, and released a quiet sigh, his amiable expression morphing into something a little bit sad, and a little bit fatigued. "If you lot will excuse me?" he asked, and there was a general assent from all of us. He got up, but his gaze found me, and he added, "Lass, thank you for your company. I hope we'll talk again."

"Count on it," I said, grinning.

He turned away then, and I heard him ask, "How can I be of service Mr. LaForge?" except that he pronounced Geordi's name more like 'LaFarge.'

Our little gathering dispersed, then, but Data was clearly waiting to leave with me. "Is everything okay?" I asked.

"Geordi and I have run into an impasse in our attempts to access the _Jenolan's_ computer core," he explained, speaking softly to keep our conversation relatively private. "He and Captain Scott will be returning to the ship."

"Geordi didn't seem too thrilled about that," I observed. Our friend's expression when he approached our table had betrayed his reluctance to involve the older engineer.

"He and Captain Scott do not 'see eye to eye,' it seems," Data explained.

"That's too bad. Scotty seems like a really nice guy. Great storyteller." We entered the turbolift, and I waited for the doors to close. "Hey, he mentioned something about knowing the guy from the Eugenics Wars… Khan Singh. Did you know his middle name was Noonien? Is he any relation to your father, do you think?"

"It has never occurred to me to pursue an investigation of the matter," he said. "Though there is a vague similarity between the names 'Khan Noonien Singh' and 'Noonian Soong,' I do not believe it is anything more than a coincidence."

I shrugged. "Yeah, I figured. I was just curious."

"I do not blame you."

"So are you going to the _Jenolan_ , as well?"

"I am not," Data said. "I am continuing the remote investigation of the sphere, while we are still in proximity. Once Geordi has extracted the information he requires, we will be leaving."

The 'lift paused on deck three, where Protocol was located, but we held the car a moment before I exited. "Think you'll be home for dinner before your poker game, or should I feed Spot and do my own thing?"

"Spot will appreciate being fed at her usual time. I may not be home until somewhat late," he hedged.

"Okay. Love you. See you later."

Data bent his head to brush a kiss across my lips and then I left the turbo-left and went to check in with Lasso.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46134.95**

 **(Wednesday, 19 February 2369, 06:14 hours, ship's time)**

When a discrete message from Captain Picard arrived for me a little after seventeen hundred hours, I knew that there would be no officers' poker game, and that Data probably wouldn't be home for dinner. Armed with that knowledge, I headed home for my favorite alone-time trilogy: a bath, a book, and bed. Spot kept me company while I ate, and sprawled on the bathroom floor grooming herself (and daring me to get her wet) while I soaked in the tub. Sonic showers might have technically been more efficient at getting you clean, but hot water and bubbles were still a kind of magic.

A little after twenty-one hundred hours, I was in bed with a mug of tea and a novel about a wizard who bribed faeries with pizza and had a talking skull for a housemate while Spot had curled into a purring ball of orange fluff on Data's pillow.

I was in the most intense part of the story when the lights dimmed and an alert signal activated. It wasn't the teeth-grating klaxon of a red alert at least, but the insistent pulse of a less lethal (in theory) yellow. A few seconds later, the disembodied voice of the ship's computer issued instructions:

\- _Attention all hands: this is a ship wide alert. The ship is in a yellow emergency condition. Please shelter in place. Message repeats: this is a ship wide alert…_

Starships are orderly places, as a rule. Even those of us who had come aboard as dependents had gone through many, _many_ drills for different sorts of emergencies. During the third iteration of the warning, I got out of bed, pulled socks, underwear and sweatpants on under the pajama top – Data's pajama top - I was already wearing, and put shoes near the bed, along with Spot's cage. This was the standard practice Data and I had agreed upon for any non-evacuation scenario when he wasn't present.

Thus prepared, I replicated another mug of tea, got back into back into bed with Spot, and tried to immerse myself in my book.

The actual red-alert klaxons came just before the ship seemed to buck like a stalling ground-car, and it was everything I could do not to comm Data, but the chirp of a comm-signal came as soon as the computerized message warning of ongoing turbulence and reminding people to remain in place ended, though the red emergency lights remained aglow.

\- _Zoe, it is Data. Are you well?_

"I'm fine," I said. "I mean… Spot and I are home and secure, and… are you allowed to tell me what's going on?

 _\- The ship has been pulled inside the Dyson sphere, and cannot exit the way we came. The captive star inside is unstable and we are operating at reduced power._

There was another jolt and I let out a startled yelp. "And the turbulence?"

 _\- It is a combination of solar flares, weakened shields, and fluctuating power to the inertial dampeners._

Sometimes, I wished my partner was a little bit less matter-of-fact and a little more practiced at down-playing dire situations. "Oh," I said lamely. Maybe I was becoming accustomed to living on the edge of danger, or maybe there's just no good way to respond to such information. I hesitated for a long moment, before asking softly, "Data, are we going to die?"

 _\- We are doing everything possible to prevent that from occurring._ His tone changed to one of ever-so-slight regret. _Perhaps I should not have contacted you. I wished to… hear your voice._

That surprised me. "Data… are _you_ well?"

 _\- I am functioning… I am fine._ He accented the last word just a bit. _I must return to my duty station in thirty seconds, Zoe. Please try not to worry._

"I'm not worried. I'm a little scared, but I have faith in Captain Picard and Commander Riker and you. Especially you, but…"

 _\- If there is something you require, please tell me._

"If things escalate to the point where there really is no hope, come get me. Intellectually, I understand that living on the ship is high-risk, even for people like me, but emotionally… I don't want to die with only Spot to cling to."

 _\- Very well. If the situation becomes that dire, I will come. I must return to duty now, Zoe. Perhaps you should consider this an extremely challenging étude._

His reference to études made me smile slightly. It meant that somewhere in his positronic brain, there was at least a kernel of belief that the ship would remain structurally sound, and we'd all survive relatively unscathed.

"I'll try," I promised. "And Data… I love you."

 _\- And I am devoted to you. Data out._

The next several hours were a mix of quiet waiting and tummy-twisting fear. The ship would be fine for long moments, and then there would be a wave of turbulence. Too frightened to really go to bed, I was at a loss for how to kill time. The power fluctuations meant that the entertainment system was down, but replicators were functioning, so I retrieved another mug of tea, gathered Spot against me, and returned to my reading. It wasn't easy to focus – every sound, every jolt made me jump – but eventually I was immersed in the world of wizards and vampires and faeries once again.

I must have fallen asleep despite everything, because I woke to a kind of eerie silence that was reminiscent of the way everything is quiet after a major storm has blown itself out. The red alert lights were no longer blinking, but the ship still felt… off.

"Computer, what time is it?" I asked, with no real hope that the voice response system was actually working.

"It is zero-six-fourteen." The answer came, not from the computer system, but from Data, who had managed to come home without me knowing. "The ship is out of danger," he added helpfully.

"Data!" I got out of bed, not quite flinging myself at him, but he anticipated my need and his arms wrapped around me, holding me close. "Geordi and Scotty?" I asked against his chest.

"They are safe and back aboard the _Enterprise_. It was they who managed to arrange for our egress from the sphere."

I pulled away from him enough to look into his eyes. "Be sure to thank them for me?"

"I will certainly do so, if you do not 'beat me to it.'" He studied my face. "You are tired. Did you get any sleep last night?"

"A little…" I stepped out of his embrace. "If you polled every civilian and a good portion of the younger officers on this ship, I'm betting no one got much sleep last night, though. No nightmares, though. Just… reality was a bit too intense."

"You should return to bed and attempt to sleep," he suggested.

"Are you staying, or did you come home just to check on me?" I pulled my sweatpants back off while we talked, preparing to go back to bed. Looking back up at my partner I saw… something… flicker in his expression. As an android, he couldn't be tired, but he could be _troubled_ , and that's what I thought I'd seen. "Data, what aren't you telling me?"

Sitting on the edge on the bed, he answered my first question first. "I am staying." One of his boots made a soft _thunk_ on the floor, and the other followed after. "I can recall at least twenty-three instances where I was on the bridge when the ship was facing destruction, but this time was… different."

He had my attention. "How so?"

"A significant portion of my processing power was diverted from my duties, to thoughts of you. I was… concerned for your safety, and I found the possibility of being on the same ship, but apart from you while we were facing imminent destruction… unacceptable."

"No one wants to die alone, Data."

"So I have heard. Technically, however, I was not alone. I was simply… not with you." He had finished undressing, and had changed into his pajama bottoms.

Data had comforted me many times, but I was suddenly faced with comforting him. He slid into the bed, and so did I, rolling toward him. "Lift your arm." I no longer really _needed_ to ask him to do that, but it had become another of our personal rituals. "There were moments last night - every time the ship jolted – that all I wanted to do was run to you, but I knew you were on the bridge working with everyone to keep us all alive. I was scared – at times I was terrified – but some part of me realized that this was just another étude. Besides," my hand was wandering over his bare chest while I spoke, "you said I was part of your programming. You've become part of me, too. We may not have been physically together, but we were never apart." I didn't remind him that he'd promised to come if things really got that desperate. I didn't need to.

"That perspective was very helpful," he said, nuzzling the top of my head. "Thank you, Zoe."

I stretched up for a proper goodnight kiss, then settled against him again, ready for sleep. "No padds?" I asked.

"I have been instructed not to return to duty for twenty-four hours," he replied. "As has everyone who was on duty on the bridge or in engineering." He paused to play with some of my hair, twisting it around his fingers, then brushing it back, and away from my face. "I prefer to focus on being here, with you just now."

"Think Lasso will let me play hooky today?" My tone was a mix of sleepy and flirtatious.

"I am certain of it. Non-essential personnel are off-duty today, as well, as a precautionary measure."

I yawned. "I'm afraid it won't be a terribly intimate day off, though. I was treated for a UTI this morning – well, yesterday morning – and Dr. Crusher recommended refraining from sex until Friday."

"As you once reminded me, Zoe, our relationship was already intimate before it became sexual. That intimacy does not fade merely because we are not engaging in sex. However, we will not be able to have any 'day off' if you are too tired to enjoy it."

My hand found a comfortable position, with my arm resting across his middle. "I'm enjoying this, right now," I said, punctuating it with another yawn. "Sleep is good, too."

"Indubitably," he said softly, and followed up with a command to the computer to extinguish the lights.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46139.16**

 **(Thursday, 20 February 2369, 19:03 hours, ship's time)**

It was rare that I arrived home after Data, but when I entered our quarters after a long day of classes in Vulcan language and culture, planning for a visiting delegation, delivering the news to Scotty that he was officially, legally, back in the world of the living (and getting drawn into a three-hour storytelling session in the lower decks mess – he'd wanted to meet the 'newest crop' of potential engineers), it was to flickering candles and dimmed room lights. There was a vase of Turkalian irises on the dining table, and covered dishes arrayed on the coffee table.

Data, however, was not ensconced behind his console, where I would have expected him to be. "Hello, lover-mine," I sing-songed into the room as the door _swooshed_ shut behind me. The endearment that I very infrequently used with him was an equal mix of snark and affection. I hadn't yet found a mushier phrase that fit him. "Are you hiding?"

"I am right here." He emerged from our bedroom wearing the close-fitting long-sleeved red shirt he knew I loved to see him wear, paired with soft black trousers. "Lt. Prerr informed me you were running late, due to your unofficial position as Captain Scott's liaison."

I laughed. "Is that what he's calling it? I thought I was just the only person who liked his stories. He reminds me of a combination of Lachlan Meade and Grandpa Harris." I shook my head. "You're distracting me. What's with the flowers and candles and mood lighting." I lifted my left wrist displaying the gold tennis bracelet that dangled there. "We celebrated Valentine's Day last week."

"This is not a celebration," Data informed me. He stepped close and leaned down to give me a gentle, chaste, kiss. "This is 'date night.'"

I tried not to let my amusement show too much. "Date night? On a Thursday?"

"If you will recall, our initial explorations of 'what we are' to each other, included 'video night' on Thursday evenings after quartet rehearsal. We did not label those evenings 'dates,' but I believe we can agree now that we _were_ , in a sense, 'dating.'"

"I really can't argue with that," I said. "I got teased enough about it by my friends."

"I was not aware you were being – "

I cut him off, "It was over a year ago, Data, and… it was affectionate teasing, not malicious. Anyway, you were saying?"

"You often tell me that it is the 'quiet times' when we are 'simply being' together are more significant to you than more impactful events."

I shrugged. "I love you. I love the life we're building. It's the everyday stuff that I lean on when we're separated. The way we've turned routine into ritual, at times."

"I experience the same sense of contentment, _completion_ , when we are simply coexisting in our quarters," he confessed. "My reaction to being apart from you during the events of Tuesday night and Wednesday morning, as well as our conversation once the danger had passed, suggests to me that we must nurture those small intimacies."

"So you've decided to institute date night?"

"I have decided we should _resume_ date night," Data corrected gently. "I have replicated Ethiopian food for our evening meal, and selected a video to watch. Will you join me?"

I was suddenly glad I'd dressed up a little that day. The V-neck tunic and skirt I was wearing were much more conducive to date night than jeans and a sweater. "I'd love to," I said. We adjourned to the sofa, where we watched _Mississippi Masala_ , and ate stewed vegetables and injera bread, and sipped replicated Tusker lager (of the syntheholic variety).

By the end of the video, with the food all gone, I had removed my tights in addition to my shoes, my feet were on Data's lap, and he was massaging them, his deft fingers finding all the right pressure points to relieve tension.

After the credits rolled, he observed, "The polish on your toenails is chipped."

I scrunched my toes, and began to pull my feet away from him, explaining, "I haven't had time to visit the spa. Besides, pedicures are no fun without a friend, and most of my friends have schedules that haven't meshed with mine lately."

He held my ankles, studying my toes with enough focus that I blushed. Then he released me, stating only, "Please remain here." He left the couch, gathering the dinner dishes and recycling them. I heard him tapping commands directly into the replicator interface, rather than speaking them aloud, and then he returned, carrying a tray. "Computer," he said, sitting down again. "Increase illumination by seventy-three percent."

"Data, what are you doing?"

His answer was nonverbal. He spread a towel across his lap, and reached for my feet, favoring me with an expression that clearly meant, "Allow me."

I hesitated for the briefest of moments, but when the man you love is holding your feet in his lap and offering to give you a pedicure, refusing him would be kind of stupid. I smiled my approval of his plan, forced myself to relax, and let him go to work.

My partner was accustomed to doing delicate work, I knew, and was fairly skilled at representational art as well, but I'd never expected him to be so adept at pampering my feet. He'd begun by continuing the massage he'd started with the addition of a mint-scented foot cream. Then he gently removed my existing polish, trimmed and filed my nails, and pushed back my cuticles. He had been humming lightly as he worked, but he stopped humming at that point to ask, "I have selected two colors that are typical of what you wear. Would you like to choose the one I use?"

He held up two bottles of nail polish. One was a rich, creamy, burgundy, and the other was a vibrant, springy fuchsia. My previous color had been very close to the pink, but I chose the darker color. "I like the burgundy," I said. I didn't tell him that I especially liked the way it looked against _his_ skin. I didn't need to.

"Very good." Data's artists' hands applied the polish to my toenails in precise, delicate strokes. _Super android pedicure skills_ , I thought to myself, but I didn't share the thought, only widened my smile. His breath, blowing on my toes even though modern polish dried in an instant, informed me he had finished.

I lifted my right foot from his lap to get a better view, and pronounced the result, "Perfect. Just like you are. Thank you."

"I am not perfect, Zoe," he admonished gently.

"Tonight you are," I said. "Will you make tea and come back to the couch after you recycle all this?"

"If you wish."

"I do wish. Peppermint, please." It was one of the first blends we'd ever shared, and seemed appropriate for The Return of Date Night (I gave it capitals in my head.) A few minutes later, we'd lowered the lights again, and Data had instructed the computer to give us some quiet background music. I cuddled against him, curling my legs behind me, and held a mug of the fragrant herbal brew with both hands. "Spending time with Scotty has been informative," I told him quietly. "He reminds me of you, sort of?"

"I do not understand." Data's default statement when faced with confusing statements.

"Everyone he knew is either incredibly old, or long-since dead. He's essentially alone in the universe, except for the people he's met here. It's kind of sad. And it's made me think about you… about how you'll eventually lose all of the people who matter to you."

"Geordi and I had a similar conversation in December… when we learned I would die in ancient San Francisco."

"Except you managed to cheat death, that time," I reminded him. "The rest of us aren't quite so immortal."

"No, you are not. But as I told Geordi, while I am not looking forward to 'losing' you, or him, or any of my other friends and colleagues, I expect that I will gain new colleagues, and form new friendships…" he trailed off, apparently unwilling to continue his thought aloud.

"… and new romantic partnerships," I finished for him. "I know that. I understand that. And I would never want you to be isolated, but… it never occurred to me before that immortality, or even just a hyper-extended lifespan, could include so much loneliness or sadness."

"Do you mind if we discontinue this topic?" Data's expression had taken on that troubled aspect again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… disconcert you."

"You did not… much. I merely believe that it is more prudent to focus on the fact that we are here today, at the beginning of what I hope will be a long life together."

His words didn't require a direct response. I answered by snuggling closer, and resting my head against his shoulder. The music he'd selected was instrumental, a classical guitar piece I didn't recognize, but would ask about later, the candles were still flickering, and I let myself sink into the mood he'd so thoughtfully created for me – for _us._

When the guitar piece ended, I broke my silence. "Data?"

"Zoe?"

"I think we should get the quartet going again."

"I concur."

The next track began to play, the next movement in what was evidently a guitar concerto, I supposed. "Data?"

"Zoe?" His voice betrayed no hint of impatience, but there was a slight note – so slight only I would likely identify it – of amusement.

"I like date night."

He buried his face in my hair, nuzzling it for a moment before he replied. "As do I."

* * *

 **Notes (LONG):** Special thanks to **Javanyet, ReLive4Love,** and **Selena.t** for general assistance of the brain trust kind. Also: attention **angeleyes24245** , your account is set to not allow PMs, so I couldn't reply to your review, but I wanted to thank you for your note.

Portions of this chapter may have been unduly influenced by the 50th anniversary of _Star Trek_. References include: the TOS episodes _Space Seed_ and _The Trouble with Tribbles, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan,_ and of course, TNG episode _Relics,_ which this chapter spans.

Per Memory Alpha, Scotty was born in 2222. As there is no canon date of birth, I've arbitrarily decided he was born in August. The _U.S.S. Enterprise_ (the original) found Khan on Stardate 3141.9, which should be around the year 2266, but three different stardate converters insist it's in 2326, which isn't possible, which is why Scotty references only a stardate.

Dotty is an OC I created, a former classmate of Data's turned commercial captain. Zoe meets her in the final chapter of _Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress & Android_. Scotch eggs come in many flavors but are usually a hard-boiled egg wrapped in minced meat and bread crumbs (or in this case, black pudding) and then deep fried. Mexican-style horchata, which is what Zoe orders, is a drink made of rice, cinnamon, almonds (optional) and sugar. Some people make it with milk, but traditionally it's non-dairy.

The book Zoe was reading in this chapter is one of the _Dresden Files_ novels by Jim Butcher, but there are a gazillion of them (or twelve, so far) and I didn't have a specific one in mind. If you like urban fantasy with a touch of humor, check them out. The game Zoe and her friends are playing is a tabletop RPG called _7_ _th_ _Sea_ , a swashbuckling adventure. It's one of only two such games I've ever truly enjoyed. The two nail polish colors that Zoe is offered are from OPI's Spring 2016 _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ collection. Data offered her "What's the Hatter with You?" and "Mad for Madness Sake," and she chose the former.

Finally, this chapter was delayed for a variety of reasons, mostly health-related. PM me if you really want to know the details and I haven't already told you personally.


	4. Mr Frost

**Content Note:** While it's not terribly explicit, there is a scene near the end of this chapter that rides the edge between being a strong T and a soft M. Read responsibly.

* * *

 **Mr. Frost**

 **Stardate 46150.45**

 **(Monday, 24 February 2369, 21:58 hours, ship's time)**

"Then we sat on the sand for some time and observed  
How the oceans that cover the world were perturbed  
By the tides from the orbiting moon overhead  
'How relaxing the sound of the waves is,' you said.  
I began to expound upon tidal effects  
When you asked me to stop, looking somewhat perplexed.  
So I did not explain why the sunset turns red  
And we watched the occurrence, in silence, instead."

Data finished the last of his poems and waited expectantly for my critique. My partner being who – and what – he was, the decision to attempt to write poetry had occurred over the weekend, sparked by my own gushing over the sample of fiction and verse that had been included in the latest dossier on the Mutherians. Their delegation was due to join the _Enterprise_ in just over a week, and Lasso had tapped me to be one of their liaisons.

It was my first real assignment since I'd begun my internship with Protocol, and I was both excited and anxious.

As to Data's poem, I was torn. It may have lacked the subtle emotional nuance that I so often saw in him, but it wasn't awful, at least in terms of form and structure. To me, however, it was a piece of quiet devastation.

"Was that about Jenna?" I asked.

Data blinked at me. "It was," he confirmed. "Is it obvious? While she no longer serves aboard this ship, I would not wish to embarrass her."

"Right," I said. "You don't want to embarrass _her_." I didn't know why I was being so touchy. Intellectually, I knew his relationship with Jenna had never approached the level of intimacy we'd had even a year before, but in the moment, all I could feel was hurt that he'd produced twelve poems with subjects ranging from seeing animal patterns in nebulae to watching an ocean sunset to a celebration of his cat, and not one of them had included me.

"Zoe?" His voice and face both demonstrated that he was perplexed by my less-than-favorable response, but was uncertain how to ask for more information.

"Your poem – all of your poems actually, but especially this one - was well-constructed, Data. Your use of language makes it very clear that the two people in the story are on a date. It tells a good story. The meter is good. The phrasing is… good."

"If that is so, Zoe, why are you upset?"

I got off the couch. "Shall I explain in the form of a haiku?" It came out snippier than I meant it. Maybe I needed to get a t-shirt warning people of snark-infested waters.

"A… haiku?"

"Japanese poem, seventeen syllables long, usually arranged in three lines of five, seven, and five syllables?"

"I am aware of what haiku is, but…"

I interrupted him, ticking off the syllables on my fingers as I spoke:

"Writing poetry

About other women, not

Your lover, is _wrong_!"

"But… my poetry only an exercise in creativity, Zoe. An attempt to evoke an emotional response."

In my head, I knew I was overreacting, that even though I never, ever doubted Data's devotion to me, I still had some insecurity about being able to be an equal partner to him, and that I was manifesting that insecurity then. What I should have said was, _I appreciate what it is that you're trying to do, but I'm hurt that it didn't occur to you to write about me, after all that we've been through, and all that we are to each other._ What came out of my mouth was vastly different.

"Oh, is _that_ what you were attempting? Well, congratulations, Mr. Frost, you succeeded."

I saw understanding start to color his expression. "But, Zoe, I did not intend any of my compositions to exclude or slight you. I only meant to – "

"Don't…" I brushed past him, heading toward our bedroom. I wasn't ready to talk things through. I was hurt, and a little bit angry (as much at myself as at him), and I wanted to stew in those feelings for a while. "I'm tired and I'm crabby and I can't do this right now. Lasso wants me to meet him for breakfast and spend the morning working with Sokel, so I'm going to take a bath and go to bed."

I could tell he was fighting his need for resolution. I could also tell that he honestly didn't understand how to react to my behavior. I'd only ever been truly angry at him twice, and one of those times had been precipitated by me putting a chip in his head and being forced to deactivate him. The other involved a request from the captain to ensure I wouldn't tell anyone about something I'd observed in sickbay, but it had only been a minor squabble.

"Would you prefer that I do not join you in bed, later?" he asked. His voice would have sounded completely neutral to anyone but me, but I heard the infinitesimal quiver beneath the words, and even though I wasn't ready to explain or forgive, it still caused a minor twinge in my heart.

Stopping just inside the bedroom doorway, I turned to face him. "I never prefer that," I said. "I'm hurt and angry, but I still love you, Data. I just…" I took a deep breath. "Give me an hour or two, and make peace with the fact that I probably won't be able to talk this through until sometime tomorrow. Okay?"

I imagined him making a note on some kind of internal calendar: _discuss abnormal poetry reaction with Zoe._ "O-kay," he agreed.

I knew he'd used that word because his inability to utter it smoothly made me smile, but I let the door slide shut behind me without a visible reaction.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46152.19**

 **(Tuesday, 25 February 2369, 13:12 hours, ship's time)**

"Have you ever wanted to blow off your career and become a surf instructor on Akkalla?" I asked Deanna Troi at lunch the next day. It had been about ten days since I'd fired her as my therapist and recruited her as a friend in the same conversation.

"Not surfing, no," she answered with a trace of amusement shining through her dark eyes. "But on particularly trying days, I've considered teaching yoga on Risa." She paused for the chuckle she probably knew I'd give her, then asked, "Are you having a bad day, Zoe?"

"Bad _week_ ," I corrected. "And yes, I know it's only Tuesday." Her response was a look that encouraged me to continue – a tip of her head, a lifting of her eyebrows. "Data's been writing poetry."

I saw her swallow reflexively and school the grin that was threatening to overtake her face into some semblance of a neutral expression. "Poetry, really?"

"It gets worse."

"Oh?" Her apparent nonchalance was almost convincing. "How so?"

"He's writing poetry about other women." I stabbed a piece of the chicken in my Capellan chicken salad. "Specifically, he's writing poetry about _Jenna_."

All amusement left the other woman's face. "Oh… Zoe… you know anything between them was over long ago."

"Intellectually, I know that – " She cut me off with a look that broadcast skepticism. "I _do_ ," I insisted. "But emotionally… I'm…"

"Jealous?" The word was uttered with infinite gentleness.

"Something like that," I admitted sheepishly. "Not a lot, but enough that there's this niggling sense of doubt: did we move too fast? Are we really meant to be together?" I ate another couple of bites of my lunch. "He was reading it all for my opinion last night, and I overreacted and picked a fight with him."

"But you talked it through afterward, didn't you?"

I had the decency to look ashamed. "No. We didn't. And now I'm going to be spending the rest of the afternoon knowing that he's waiting to pounce on the topic when I get home, which will be late because it's poker night for him and boxing night for me."

"Boxing night?" She seemed amused. "I thought you'd resolved your need to hit things."

"I had," I confirmed. "I mean, the urgent need, anyway, but, the more time I spent with… the person who's coaching me… the more I realized that I really enjoy the pure physicality of it. It's cathartic in a way swimming isn't."

Deanna was smiling at my statement. "I completely understand," she said. "Are you ever going to tell me who your boxing coach is?"

"Don't you know?" I asked, all innocence.

"I truly don't," she confessed. "I haven't pried because it didn't seem necessary. I'm just a little curious. Why is it such a secret?"

"I'm not sure it really is, anymore. Mostly, I just like having something that's mine. I'll ask him tonight, and if he says it's okay, I'll tell you."

"I'd like that," she said. Then she changed the subject. "So, are you enjoying your time with Lasso?"

"Well, the first month was pretty much just reading everything he threw at me – declassified mission reports, etiquette guides from a gazillion different cultures, diplomatic briefings – and then summarizing it all. It took me about a week to figure out he wanted me to learn to write clear, concise reports, and another several days beyond that to realize that I could ask Data or Geordi or Will or Dr. Crusher –

"- or me – "

"- or _you_ \- for first-hand information."

"And then he had you babysit Scotty for a few days."

"Right. Which was actually kind of a blast. Also, I think I've nailed his accent." I slipped into a Scottish brogue. "An' lass, if ye ken twist yer tongue into a proper brogue, ye c'n manage any other language in a snap."

Troi laughed. "Well done."

"Well," I admitted, "Six months with Lachlan Meade might have helped with that a little. But really, it's music. It helps you hone your ear. Speaking of which… Sokel says that the Mutherian language is closely related to Old Vulcan, and he's having me study that as well as continuing our regular Vulcan lessons."

Lt. Sokel had been my Vulcan teacher from my first year aboard when I'd had to choose a non-Terran language to study. Sure, the universal translator could do a lot, but for times when you didn't have one, or wanted to be convincing as someone who wasn't necessarily well-educated, actual knowledge of a few different languages came in handy. I'd chosen Vulcan before I'd ever really gotten to know T'vek, because it was one of the most frequently-used languages in the Federation. After spending six months on tour with Somak, I'd even become fairly fluent in the common tongue.

"The Mutherian delegation is coming soon, aren't they?" Deanna asked.

"Next week. I think Lasso is using them as a sort of field test of his guinea pig."

"He wouldn't let you participate if he didn't believe you were ready," she assured me.

"Oh, I know. I'm feeling all contrary though: I'm looking forward to actually being able to _do_ something, and at the same time I'm terrified I'll do something wrong."

Troi laughed. "I know that feeling all too well, Zoe. Every time I'm tapped for an away mission, I still feel that way."

"Really?"

"Really. And I bet if you asked any officer on the ship they'd confess to the same."

"That's oddly reassuring," I told her, and meant it.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46154.39**

 **(Wednesday, 26 February 2369, 08:27 hours, ship's time)**

It was childish and stupid, I knew, but I'd managed to avoid Data all Tuesday afternoon and evening.

Partly, this was because he'd had his poker game and I'd had my boxing date with the captain, but when he comm'd to let me know he had to assist Geordi with some modifications to the sensor array, and would only have time to walk me home before he had to return to engineering, where their project was "…likely to run significantly past midnight," I suggested that he not come so far out of his way, just for five minutes of together-time.

If his agreement seemed somewhat reluctant, I was only projecting, wasn't I?

Still, after a shower, a light dinner, and catching up on messages from both sets of my parents and grandparents, I regretted brushing him off. Around midnight, I went to bed, but it took forever to fall asleep, and I kept waking up to see if there was light – or at least monitor-glow – seeping through the slightly-open bedroom door.

By the time Data got home, around two hundred hours, I was more than ready to talk through my mood and behavior, but it was too late for a heavy discussion. I welcomed him home with a kiss and the information that blowing him off had left my whole evening off-kilter.

"I, too," he told me, "was operating at less than optimal efficiency tonight."

His confession surprised me. "I affect you that much?" I asked. "I affect you _at all_?" I amended after a beat.

"I assumed you were already aware of that fact."

"I knew you were in a 'sub-optimal state' when I was with Idyllwild, Data, but I didn't think ordinary spats touched you that much."

"Is that what we are having?" he asked, a hint of the eagerness that meant he was cataloguing a new experience mixing with the faint note of confusion in his tone. "A 'spat?'"

"Kind of," I said. He'd been undressing as we talked, and at that point he slid into the bed. "It's a little hard to be in a spat with someone who doesn't reciprocate the annoyance or anger… so I guess, it's more that I've been in a snit." I splayed my fingers across the center of his chest. "I'm not negating my emotional reaction," I elaborated. "But… I probably could have handled it better."

Data covered my hand with his. "Despite the fact that we have been a couple for over a year, there is much about our relationship we must both learn to navigate," he said gently. "I believe we are both still learning the nuances of living in a committed relationship."

"There you go, being right again," I teased. I snuggled closer, leaving my hand where it was. "I believe I should try to sleep now. Too much deep talk right before bed isn't healthy."

His response was to nuzzle my hair and place a kiss on the top of my head. "Good night, Zoe."

I answered by pressing my lips against the bare skin of his shoulder.

I fell asleep soon after that, but when morning came, I was reminded afresh of why I'd been fractious in the first place because even before I'd had coffee Data was asking me about his poetry reading, scheduled for later that day.

"Zoe, should I begin with 'Ode to Spot' or make it the final selection in my presentation?"

"Um…" I began oh-so-eloquently. "I'd make it the last one, I think. People always remember the first and last things they hear, and it's one of the stronger things you've written."

"Then, I should begin with 'Sonnet of the Nebulae?'"

"Sure," I said. "That works." I searched for something positive to say about the piece in question. "You've got some really vivid imagery in that one, actually, so… yeah. It definitely works as an opener."

"Will you be able to attend?"

I froze, unsure of how to answer. As much as I didn't want to sit there surrounded by his colleagues and our friends as he recited verse after verse about everyone in his life except me, I did want to support Data's explorations of creativity.

"I'll ask Lasso. If he doesn't mind me skiving off early, I'll be there," I promised. I finished the fruit and yogurt I'd been eating, recycled my tableware, and retrieved my padd from the bedroom. Data had also left the table. "Wanna walk me to work?" I asked, mostly teasing.

He accepted it as the peace offering it was meant to be, and even gave me one of his rare real smiles.

Outside the protocol office, I kissed his cheek. "See you this afternoon."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46155.34**

 **(Wednesday, 26 February 2369, 16:47 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, tell me again what happened?" Dr. Crusher was bending over Lasso where he was lying on a bio bed, running scans.

"We were going over the last round of requests from the Mutherian legate. We were watching a video message, but she recorded it while sitting in her garden. She does that a lot, actually. Can't say that I blame her, it's a lovely setting. There are all these exotic plants and birds and – "

The doctor cut me off. "Zoe, I know you're worried, but stick to the relevant information, please."

"This is relevant, I promise. One of the birds suddenly became agitated and it was making this clicking sound. When Lasso heard it, he seemed to get agitated as well."

"And then he fainted?"

"First he screamed, then he fainted."

"Screamed… as if he were in pain?"

I thought about it. "No, it was more like… more like something had terrified him."

"You're sure about that?"

"Ask Data about my 'dubious taste in video entertainment' sometime," I snarked. At the doctor's questioning look, I elaborated, "I have a thing for horror vids. Trust me, I know what a terrified scream looks – and sounds – like."

I saw her hide a smile as she continued her scans. "Well, it looks like Lasso's going to be fine. He hit his head on the console, you said?"

"Yes, when he fell. I called you right after."

"It's a good thing you were there," she said. "You can go now, if you want."

"He'll be okay?"

She nodded, and assured me, "He'll be _fine_. I've already treated his concussion. I'll keep him sedated for another hour or so and then keep him here another couple of hours just for observation, but he'll be fine."

"Could you let him know I responded to the legate and copied him with the response?" I asked.

"I'm sure he'll appreciate knowing that," she said. She glanced at the display on the bio-bed, then added, "If you hurry, you'll probably get to be there for the last few minutes of Data's poetry reading."

I laughed. "I'd better get going then." I left sickbay and headed to the closest lift-bank. Data's reading was in one of the multipurpose rooms on deck two, and he was just finishing the poem that had bothered me so much when he'd initially shared it with me two days before.

The chairs were all filled, but one of the civilian scientists, a man in an orange shirt who gave every appearance of having been roped into attendance, gave me his seat in the back row and went to stand against the wall, right near the door. There was a smattering of polite applause and then Data launched into his last piece – an ode to Spot. The poem was clever, and I'd become as fond of the cat as my partner was, but it still irked me that the orange menace rated an ode while I got… nothing.

When Commander Riker interrupted the poem with his own applause several stanzas before the end, I had to fight not to laugh. Then I caught a glimpse of his face, and I covered my mouth to muffle the gasp I couldn't stifle. His eyes had darker circles than those I'd sported a year before when I was having constant nightmares, and after Data resumed his performance, I caught Counselor Troi elbowing him in the ribs to keep him awake.

Something was definitely going on. I wondered if my boyfriend knew, or, if he did, if he'd tell me what it was.

I remained in my chair as the room emptied, until finally I was alone in the room with one somewhat dejected android.

"Hey," I said moving to greet him. "Sorry I was late, there was an accident. Lasso fainted and hit his head, and I went with him to sickbay." I searched his face, then asked, "What's wrong?"

"I do not believe my poetry was favorably received," he said.

"What makes you say that?"

"The applause was what one might call 'only polite,' and Commander Riker fell asleep three times during the reading."

"Did you happen to notice his face at all?" I asked. "He looks like something out of a zombie video. I don't think he was reacting to your poetry."

"Hmh." That sound always meant Data was considering new information. "Perhaps you are correct."

"And perhaps you're over-analyzing people's responses," I suggested. "Did you still want to have dinner with me before rehearsal?"

"Would you prefer Ten-Forward, or dining at home?"

I shrugged. "Home's more convenient. We can eat, feed Spot and collect our instruments without having to double back."

"A valid point," he said.

But when we arrived at home, we had a message from Dennis telling us he was exhausted and needed to beg off, and Cress Parish called during dinner, apologizing both for not sticking around to tell Data his reading had gone well, and also that she needed to stay home with her son. The twelve-year-old had only joined her aboard after Christmas, and he was having nightmares that she'd thought he'd grown out of years before.

"Is it just me or are a lot of people having issues with sleep lately?" I asked after Cress severed the comm-link. "Is there anything funky about this region of space? I know we're mapping the Amargosa Diaspora, but…"

He interrupted me. "I am not aware of anything particularly unusual, other than the density of the globular cluster we are charting. However, this is typical of any time when the ship is on an extended mapping and charting mission. Long periods of downtime with no call to action generally result in people spending more hours socializing, and fewer hours at rest."

"Yes, but Commander Riker seemed a lot more tired than someone who's just partying a little too much."

"I am certain he will be fine."

"And us?" I asked, turning the conversation back to personal matters. I cleared the table while I talked. "Will we be 'fine' as well?"

"It is my hope that we will," he said. "Are you ready, now, to discuss _your_ reaction to my poetry?"

But we didn't have the chance because the comm-link chirped _again._ That time, it was Geordi, apologizing for disturbing us, and asking for Data's assistance in engineering once more.

"Looks like we're tabling this discussion yet again," I observed.

He answered me with an apologetic look (raised eyebrows, a slight shake of his head) and a too-brief kiss. Then he left me with the promise, "I will inform you if we will be later than midnight."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46157.22**

 **(Thursday, 27 February 2369, 09:17 hours, ship's time)**

When my initial alarm sounded at eight-thirty, I was too groggy to do more than register the fact that I was alone in bed, before going back to sleep.

When I woke up again, nearly an hour later, I was still tired, but not so sleepy that it prevented me from realizing there was no sign of Data. _Had he come home at all?_ _Had I slept through him coming home and leaving again?_ He'd promised to call if he was going to be late, and when I'd gone to bed at eleven, I hadn't heard from him.

I sat up in bed. "Computer, tell me the location of Lieutenant Commander Data."

\- _Lieutenant Commander Data is in his quarters_.

I was about to snark at the computer for being completely off-base, when I realized that the doors had opened and shut and my partner was standing in the bedroom doorway wearing his concerned face. "Zoe, did you just return home?"

I'd been about to jump out of bed and run to him but that question made me freeze in place and look at him as if he'd had some weird memory dump. "Are you kidding? I've been here all night." In a softer voice, I added, "You're the one who never came home."

Still concerned, but with a hint of his android-on-a-mission persona coming out as well, Data moved all the way into our bedroom and sat gingerly on the bed. "I came home at zero two thirteen hours," he said. "You were not here. I assumed you had chosen to spend the night with your friend Dana, and left your comm-badge behind intentionally."

I shook my head. "I stopped playing that game a long time ago."

He accepted that with a slight movement of his eyebrows. "Nevertheless, you were not here when I arrived. Nor were you here thirty-nine minutes ago when I went to look for you."

"But I _was_ ," I insisted. "I didn't even see Dana last night. After you left, I practiced for a while, worked through another of the Popper etudes – I never did finish the book." I stared at him, trying to discern what he was thinking. "I'm not lying, Data. I would _never_ lie to you."

He was quiet for several seconds – eons in android time – before he said, "I do not believe you are lying. I do believe that one of us has an inaccurate perception of your whereabouts last night."

"But you think it's me. I _swear_ , the last time I walked through our door was when we got home last night."

"I have a complete memory record of attempting to reach you by comm with unsatisfactory results, and finding our bed rumpled, but empty, when I arrived home," he countered. "If you had been wearing your comm-badge, I could run a computer trace to determine your actual location, but…"

"Data, you don't wear your comm-badge to bed, either," I pointed out, though the last few words were lost in a yawn.

"No," he agreed, "I do not. However, given that we have not yet resolved your extreme reaction to my poetry - " I glared at him, but he continued, just as rationally as ever, "- and that I had to cut our evening short, it seemed logical that you would have chosen to avoid me."

"Even though you knew that avoiding you Tuesday night left me all unsettled?"

"Your responses are not always predictable."

"Hmph."

"I apologize if I have offended you, dearest. However, it is true."

I supposed I had to allow him that. "I guess."

Whatever Data was going to say next was interrupted by the computer chiming a reminder at me.

\- _The time is zero nine forty-nine hours. The time is zero nine forty-nine hours._

"Computer, cancel time alert," Data instructed before I could.

"I'm going to be late," I said pushing the covers back. "I have to get ready."

"Lt. Prerr will understand if you are slightly delayed," Data offered.

"Yeah, he'll understand, but I don't want him to have to." I was out of bed by then, pulling clothes out of drawers. I walked into the bathroom, stripped off the t-shirt I'd worn to bed, and stepped into the shower, setting it for five minutes of sonics. No time for water, that morning. I continued our conversation while I was getting clean. "Lasso was really understanding when I had that meltdown on Valentine's Day, and if he hadn't fainted I would have been at your reading on time. I don't want to abuse his generosity by asking for special treatment."

Out of the shower, I dressed quickly in a turtleneck, a skirt, and tights, sliding my feet into shoes, and then returning to the bathroom to brush my hair and apply the bare minimum of make-up – enough to make me look as though I was well-rested and not a zombie.

"Do I look okay?" I asked, presenting myself for my partner's approval.

"You are as aesthetically appealing as you always are," Data answered, "though a close observer would assume that you had not slept well."

"I am pretty tired," I admitted.

"But you will not request the morning off to rest?"

"Are you asking as my boyfriend or second officer of the ship?" It had become a common question at times when we were doing the role dance.

"In this case, Zoe, it is both."

I nodded. "Okay," I said, rejoining him on the bed, just for a moment. "Well, to Commander Data, I'd say that while I'm a little tired, nothing we're working on is strenuous or dangerous. I'll probably spend a lot of the day reading briefs summarizing them for Lasso, and working on improving my Mutherian language skills, and after lunch I'll be in the aquatics lab because I still need to finish my science credit, and once I'm actually focused on something I'll be fine."

"And to your partner?" he asked.

"I'd remind him that if I ask for the morning off, Lasso will feel obligated to approve my request because I'm dating the second officer of the ship."

"Ah." Understanding seemed to deepen the yellow of his eyes.

"There are times," I said, "when you're going to be on an away mission and I'll be going crazy with worry, or you'll pull another stunt like you did last year, and end up crispy-fried, when I'm going to need special treatment. And when those times come, you better believe I'll ask. But today? I'm just over-tired and unsettled because _we_ still have unresolved issues, and I hate feeling like we're not communicating."

"Perhaps learning to move through a 'spat' is another etude we must both master," Data suggested. He lifted a hand to my face, cupping my cheek and leaning close to kiss me. "Even when our communication on other subjects is somewhat… lacking… please do not doubt that I remain devoted to you." His lips were soft against mine, and the cashew essence of him was subtle that morning.

Was it wrong to enjoy the physically intimate part of our relationship, even when I was still hurt and angry? I wasn't sure, but I lingered there for another minute anyway, my foreheads pressed to his. "I love you, too," I said, recognizing his words for what they truly meant. "Are we still doing date-night tonight?"

"Do you wish to?"

I hesitated.

"Ah, I see," Data said, before I could speak. "You are still angry with me."

"Less so, but… can we… can we just play it by ear? I mean, don't plan anything fancy, but don't schedule anything else?"

Data also hesitated, though most people probably wouldn't have recognized his behavior as such. "As you wish," he said after about a second of silence.

I left our quarters feeling as though there was a rift between us that I was causing.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46157.98**

 **(Thursday, 27 February 2369, 15:57 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, just the woman I was looking for!" Ray Barnett caught up with me in the corridor on deck four, just outside Protocol. I had been released early. Lasso was still exhausted, and he had seen the same tiredness in me that Data had, and declared our work done for the day. "Sis? What's wrong?"

"Sorry, Ray, what's up? It's not pool day." We'd resumed weekly swimming sessions just after the first of the year.

"I came to invite you to a party."

"A party?" That was new. Most of our socializing had been him joining my friends.

"Robin Lefler's birthday is today, and we're putting together a little soiree in the deck sixteen observation lounge tonight at twenty-one hundred hours. Nothing formal. Music. Cake. Presents optional."

"Robin _knows_ you're throwing this party?" I asked. Geordi had paired me with Ensign Lefler for shuttle practice about a year before, when Data had been on an away mission he couldn't tell me about, and we'd become friends, though not close ones. Still, we'd talked enough that I knew she often had problems fitting in.

"She does, and she said you had to be included."

"Data and I have date-night on Thursdays," I said to my 'adopted' big brother. "If he doesn't mind, I'll swing by, but I probably won't be able to stay long."

"Fair enough."

"Unless you want Data to stop by as well?" I was kidding, mostly. I couldn't really envision my partner at a lower decks party.

"Ah, Zoe… it's not that he wouldn't be welcome…"

"But he'd cramp your style a little bit?"

"Pretty much."

"No worries. I'm sure he won't mind."

We'd been walking as we talked, but we parted ways at the turbo-lifts. "See you later, Zo."

"Sure thing," I said. I instructed the computer to take me to the deck where the quartermaster had her domain, replicated a gift for Robin, and then headed home, where I found a bouquet of flowers in a vase on our dining table (gerbera daisies in a riot of colors) and a blinking light on the comm-unit, indicating that a message was waiting.

As I expected it was a message from Data, but the content surprised me:

 _Dearest, I hope the flowers I left for you will suffice until I can make a 'proper' apology to you._

 _I experienced something today that led me to understand that you were correct when you stated that no one had used the doors to our quarters between your return home and mine. I am currently in my laboratory conducting a comprehensive self-diagnostic which will conclude at approximately twenty-three forty-seven hours. I am capable of limited conversation during this process, and you are welcome to stop by if you wish. If you are amenable, we can reschedule our 'date night' for tomorrow._

 _Again, Zoe, I apologize for doubting you and for cancelling our evening._

I wondered what it was that had changed his mind, but I also wondered what exactly 'limited conversation' entailed. I'd never been present during his diagnostic process, and I was more than a little bit curious.

I could visit the lab for a while, drop by Robin's party, and still be home when his diagnostic was complete. I was about to delete the message and shut down the comm system when the alert sounded for an incoming call. The origination point was the Daystrom Institute, so I sent it to Data's message inbox and went to feed Spot, shower, and change to clothes that were a little more casual – and more festive – than what I'd worn to work.

 **(=A=)**

Geordi La Forge was exiting the cybernetics laboratory just as I approached the doors. "Hey, Zo'" he greeted amiably. "Haven't seen much of you lately; Lasso keeping you that busy?"

"Kind of," I said. "Mostly." I amended after a beat.

But the engineer was staring at me through his visor. "Data mentioned that the two of you have been in a fight."

"He used that word?" I bristled slightly.

"He described a series of misunderstandings and asked if it 'constituted being in a fight,' yeah."

His impression of my partner was dead-on, and I had to laugh in spite of myself. "That sounds like him."

"So, are you?"

I sighed. "I had an extreme reaction to his poetry."

"The one about Jenna?"

"That and the fact that Spot rated an ode and…"

"And you weren't mentioned… I didn't even _think_ about that. Zo'… you know he didn't slight you intentionally."

I nodded. "Calm, rational, has-had-two-days-to-process Zoe knows that," I explained. "But eighteen-year-old-terrified-we-won't-last Zoe was not so understanding during the initial reading, and we've barely had time to talk about it, and if you add to that the fact that he didn't believe me when I said I'd been home all night last night..."

"Then he hasn't told you?"

I'm sure even people who'd never met me would have been able to tell I was confused. "Told me what?"

"Over the last few days – ever since Data and I reconfigured the sensors?" He paused, waiting for my affirming nod. I knew about that project. "People have mysteriously been absent from the ship, mostly when they're sleeping. They wake up really tired, but with no real memory of what happened."

I stared at him, "No one's said anything…"

"The captain doesn't want people panicking."

"Makes sense. But you're telling me."

This time it was Geordi who sighed. "Listen, Zo', it's not classified, it's just not public. You get the difference?" I nodded, and he continued. "I guess… I consider you part of the 'need to know' circle. Especially when Data is affect – "

I cut him off. "Oh, god. That's why he's doing a diagnostic, isn't it? He was taken, too?"

"Yeah. Around lunch-time."

I was putting things together in my head. "That explains the flowers and his note."

"Flowers?"

I wondered if he could read the soft smile that I could feel spreading across my face. "He had flowers waiting for me in our quarters, and a message apologizing for doubting what I said… but that means… that means I was taken, too. So, we were both right…"

Geordi was shaking his head, perplexed. "Zoe?"

"I insisted hadn't left our quarters through the doors. Data insisted I wasn't home when he got there."

I saw the light dawn on his face. "But since you were already hurt and angry over the poetry…"

"Yeah," I admitted, "we haven't really been communicating well this week. And the thing is… I'm not even angry with him anymore. And even when I _was_ it was more _hurt_ than _angry._ We've had arguments before, but this is… I don't know…" The middle of the corridor wasn't really the place for this conversation, but there was no one around, and Geordi was probably the only person who knew Data better than I did. "Geordi, did Data and I… did we move too fast? Because underneath the momentary hurt and anger… I keep worrying that we're kidding ourselves that we can last. I feel like time is ticking so _fast_ … and…" I finally found words for the feeling that had been subtly gnawing at me for days. "Sometimes I feel like Data's trying _so hard_ to be what he thinks I want, and the reality is, all I want is him. Just… him. Not some perfect boyfriend. But…"

"Hey..." Geordi interrupted me. " _Hey,_ " he repeated in a soothing tone. "All the things he does for you – he does them because it's the best way he can express what you are for him. He knows, Zoe. He _knows_ you don't expect him to be anything other than what he is. And as for whether or not you two will last – well, I'm the last guy to give an opinion on that – but if anyone can figure out how to sustain a relationship with the kinds of separations you two will be facing over the next few years, it's you and Data."

I blinked away the tears that were threatening to form in my eyes, and managed a real smile. "You're a really good friend, Geordi. To both of us. Thank you." Impulsively, I hugged him. Then I stepped back. "So… what does 'limited conversation' mean?"

His ringing laughter - Geordi had the _best_ laugh – filled the corridor. "Not as limited as you might think. Go in. I'm sure his invitation was vague, but I know he wants you in there."

I grinned. "Gotcha. Thanks, G-man."

He flashed me his trademark smile, and walked away, and I entered the lab.

I'm not sure what I was expecting to find, but when I walked in, the lights were dim, and Data was in the central alcove, an optical cable snaking from the panel in his head to a panel on the front railing/control panel.

His eyes were open, fixed on some invisible mark straight ahead of him, but unfocused and still. I paused in front of him, and he blinked a few times, then focused his attention on me. "I was not certain you would come." His voice sounded noticeably computerish, and I found the effect somewhat jarring.

I forced a light tone. "It's date night," I said. "You shouldn't have to spend it alone. I thought I'd just use the replicator in here, and keep you company while I eat." I glanced at the monitor. "Does 'limited conversation' include translating the readouts on this thing into concepts I can understand?"

"I can reroute results to an external monitor," he said. "Activate the central console on my work-station."

I did as he instructed, and a flood of information flowed over the screen, faster than I could read it. "Data, how do I knock this down to a speed I can actually keep up with." I cringed at my own grammar, but he got the point.

"Hold."

I waited, and after a moment the data stream slowed. Some of the information was familiar to me from our time on Terlina III the previous spring, while the rest made zero sense, but I knew it meant something to him that I wanted to learn.

It took him longer to explain than it typically would have, but eventually I understood that he was checking to make sure his internal chronometer was still functioning, and matching conscious memories against timestamps in his programming, as well as seeking the presence of some kind of energy signature from the ship that always left an imprint on his systems.

Or at least, that was my interpretation of Data's explanation. I confirmed that he was letting me see the information from his diagnostic subroutines mostly so I'd feel included, and let them continue to scroll by while I replicated a Greek style salad with chicken shawarma on top, then pulled an extra chair over to his desk.

Sitting in his chair, with my feet kicked up on the other, I ate my salad, drank iced tea, and – after confirming that he'd be able to follow what I was saying – caught him up on the news from my various family members until I had to excuse myself. "Ray Bennett tracked me down in the corridor today," I said, as I was recycling the plates I'd used. "It's Robin Lefler's birthday. I replicated a couple of scarves I know she'll love, but I wasn't sure if it should be a joint gift, or just from me. I know the _Enterprise_ is hardly strict about ranks mixing and such, but I don't want to make things awkward."

"Ensign Lefler attended your birthday," he pointed out, still sounding flat and computer-y. "I have worked with her. She has potential."

I grinned at him. 'Potential' was one of his words for 'exceptional.' "So, I'm putting both our names on the card?" Maybe it shouldn't have, but somehow, giving a present from both of us felt like a sort of relationship milestone.

"Affirmative," he said.

Too soon, I had to leave. "I'm not staying for the whole party. I'll meet you back here, when I'm done. " I paused, "Am I allowed to touch you while you're all plugged in?"

"Always." On that word, Data sounded more like his usual self.

I walked around to the back of the alcove and stepped into it with him. It was a tight fit – it hadn't been designed for two – but I managed to get close enough to kiss his cheek. Then I stepped away and headed for the door, pausing to tease him a little. "I had an interesting chat with Geordi, earlier. I'm going to let you stew about that until I return."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46158.90**

 **(Friday, 28 February 2369, 00:02 hours, ship's time)**

Like the woman herself, Robin Lefler's birthday party was quiet and low-key. The gathering included mostly other ensigns, mostly those from engineering and operations rotations, a few of the younger civilian scientists, a couple of lieutenants (junior grade), and me. Fortunately, I'd met almost everyone there, and was friendly – if not exactly friends – with most of them.

"Zoe! You came!" Robin's greeting was both sweet and completely sincere. "I'm so glad." She surprised me with an impulsive hug, and took my proffered gift-wrapped box with the sort of expression that implied she wasn't accustomed to receiving gifts.

"Well, you know, any excuse for cake," I teased. "Besides, you came to my party; how could I not return the favor. Happy birthday, Robin. Data sends his regards."

We chatted a bit more, and then Ray pulled me away to ask if I'd heard anything about people being taken from the ship.

It wasn't the first time I had been privy to information that wasn't entirely public, but it was the first time I'd been asked to share. "I've heard rumors," I said after a beat. "And I know there are a _lot_ of people reporting that they're unusually tired, even after a full night's sleep, but beyond that, I'm probably more in the dark than you are."

One of the Bass brothers - Carvel, the more gregarious one – insinuated himself into our conversation, teasing me in greeting. "Well, if it isn't Mrs. Data," he said. "Can I hook you up with a drink?"

I knew perfectly well that Carvel was trying to bait me with the new name, and a refused to let him succeed. "A drink would be great, Fish-boy," I answered him in my sweetest tone. "Thanks for offering." The snarky nickname was doubly appropriate. He was currently doing a rotation in aquatics.

"Fish-boy?" he asked, pretending to be insulted. "Really? Zoe, you _cut_ me."

"Actually, I think I _filleted_ you," I corrected.

He laughed and saluted me then went to get a drink, returning with a glass of a sparkling fruit beverage. "Corellian Sunrise," he said. "It's spiked, but it's only synthehol."

I sniffed the drink before sipping it, and found that I liked the sweet-tart flavor of the red and orange liquid. "Not bad," I said. "Your invention?" Both he and his brother had been put on report a year before for building a still in one of the science labs. Data had discovered it, and punished them by making them act as servers in Ten-Forward for a week.

"It is, and I'm glad you approve," he said. "I'll give you the recipe if you dance with me."

There _were_ a few people dancing, so I asked Ray to hold my drink. "One song, nothing slow."

He took me at my word, picked a truly raucous pop song that my uncle had ghost-written (though I kept that detail to myself) and then took his leave of me, thanking me for the dance.

"He's into you," Robin said softly, as Ray and I flanked her on the sofa she'd commandeered.

"Doubtful," I said. "He knows I'm with Data – you heard what he called me – and anyway, last I heard he was more into boys than girls."

"No, Joren is the one who prefers men," she corrected.

"Oh." I shrugged. "No matter; I have zero interest in anyone that way."

"Except Data," she teased.

"Except Data," I agreed. "He's not the only one who refers to me that way," I confessed, elaborating, "As 'Mrs. Data,' I mean. Just one of the loudest." I hesitated for a breath or so then added, "I'm never sure if I should be insulted or not."

"Mmm. Not," Robin determined after apparently thinking it over. "They tease you that way because they know you'll give as good as you get."

"Well, I do aim to entertain."

The quirky engineer laughed. "You do more than that, you know. Anyway, they like you and they respect Data, and they see you two as a permanent thing." I nodded, accepting her words, and she changed the subject. "I heard you talking about the weird sleep issues happening. Did Data mention there was a false reading of an explosion in Shuttle Bay Four earlier?"

I shook my head. "We've been… we haven't had a lot of alone-time this week."

"Well, there was. And there've been other odd things happening. The computer's been saying people aren't on board when they should be."

Ray interrupted. "Robin, if the next thing out of your mouth is that we're dealing with alien abductions…"

"Ray, all I'm saying is that stranger things have happened."

"We _do_ live on a starship," I pointed out. "What's that line of the captain's that all the newsfeeds love to quote? 'Things are only impossible until they're not'?"

Both ensigns turned to look at me, at a loss to continue either side of their debate.

"Hey, Robin, you ready for cake?" Ray lamely changed the subject.

Cake was served, and Robin opened her gifts – she gushed over the scarves – and then the party loosened up again.

I stayed to chat with people a little longer. Laura Gilbert teased me that she'd finally had a crack at a lead role while I was away, and made me promise to join the 'girl's night' she would be hosting. I enjoyed the evening for the most part, but there was also a small part of me that felt like a fraud.

I was eighteen, surrounded by people five, six, and seven years older than me, and while I kept up with the conversation, the sense of being betwixt-and-between kept flickering to life, and then dying again.

In the end, I left around twenty-three hundred, absconding with a slice of the cake. It was lemon-curd with a white chocolate and ginger frosting. (Robin's Law number forty-seven: Go with the unusual choice.) Data would only eat one bite, I knew, and leave the rest to me, but he'd appreciate the gesture.

 **(=A=)**

I made it back to the lab just in time to witness Data pulling the optical cabling out of the ports on his skull. "Zoe," he greeted. "Did you enjoy the party?"

"It was nice," I said. "I brought you some cake." He seemed to want more information, so I continued, "Robin really liked her gift. I danced with Carvel Bass –tried a new drink he invented – got invited to hang out with the girls – Ensign Gilbert and some of her friends – but…" I trailed off.

"Zoe?"

"I never feel like I quite belong at these things."

He peered at me, his gold eyes seeming to search my face. "Is it possible that our 'spat' colored your perceptions?"

"Possible. Probable, even," I allowed. "You're a much better dance partner than Fish-boy, by the way."

His eyebrows lifted. "'Fish-boy'?"

"Well, he called me 'Mrs. Data,' so…" I blushed. "I probably shouldn't have mentioned that."

"If you wish me to speak to him…" Data began, but he trailed off in response to the look I was giving him.

"He teases me out of friendship, Data, nothing more. It's the junior officers' way of telling us they approve of our relationship. Robin put it best… they like me and respect you."

"I see." He busied himself at his console, sending copies of his reports to the computer in our quarters, as well as to Geordi, and then he shut everything down. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation at home."

"I'm good with that," I said.

We walked to the lift in companionable silence, and kept quiet on the brief ride to our deck. I was still carrying the slice of cake I'd brought home, but Data caught my hand as we left the lift car, lacing his fingers with mine. I glanced down at our hands and then up at him, but his face was blank, and we were already home before I thought to ask what was going through his head. Or at least, what the uppermost thoughts were.

"If you would like to change, I will replicate tea," he said when the door had _swooshed_ shut behind us. "We have much to discuss."

Avoidance couldn't last forever, so I smiled and nodded and said, "I'd like that. Something minty, please."

I went to our bedroom to exchange my blouse and jeans for an oversized t-shirt – one of his old uniform undershirts, actually – and padded back to the living room barefoot. He'd already brought a tray with mugs of tea and the slice of birthday cake (and two forks) to the coffee table, and I was already curling into my corner of the couch and reaching for one of the mugs as I said, "You want me to explain my reaction to your poetry."

"That, yes, but first… Zoe, when you insisted that you had been home in bed on Wednesday night, I should have investigated your claim at that moment. Earlier this afternoon, I 'lost' approximately ninety minutes of time – time for which my memory engrams have nothing recorded. The diagnostic I completed this evening confirmed what I already suspected: I was not aboard the _Enterprise_ during the missing time."

"Supposed alien abductions were the hot topic at the party tonight," I shared. "And Geordi filled me in on some of what was going on when I ran into him outside your lab earlier. Don't worry, I didn't confirm anything anyone was saying."

"I have no such concern, Zoe. I trust you to be discriminate about what you can and cannot share. I _should_ have realized that you were telling the truth as you perceived it this morning."

"Yesterday morning, technically." The hour had flipped past midnight during our chat. I sipped the tea, enjoying the slight bite of the peppermint.

"Indeed."

"So, I was taken off the ship when I thought I was asleep?"

"Very likely. The doctor can scan you to confirm that if you wish, but as you appear to be unharmed, I do not believe it to be necessary."

I nodded. "I'll see what my day is like tomorrow, but except for being a little tired, my only stress is coming from what's been going on between us."

Data set down his mug, met my gaze with his, and held it. "Our 'spat' began with your reaction to the sunset poem."

I glanced away from him, embarrassed. "Yes. It did."

"I understand that part of what you were feeling was jealousy, but I do not comprehend why you would experience such an emotion when the poem clearly conveyed a 'bad' date."

"It wasn't so much the poem itself it was…" I set the cup down, afraid I'd splash the tea if I gestured. "It was that in twelve poems you talked about poker, a nebula, an ex-girlfriend, and your cat – "

" – _our_ cat – "

"Fine. _Our_ cat. But not once did you mention me. In the entire time I've known you, and especially since we've been together, I've never felt like I didn't matter to you. I've felt respected and wanted and cherished, and even loved. You've painted me, but I know painting is how you process your… feelings." Something flickered in his eyes, but since he didn't immediately insist that he had no feelings, I continued. "It felt like… it felt like you were erasing me. Erasing _us._ "

"I cannot 'erase' our relationship, Zoe." Data's voice was quiet. Intense, but quiet. "Nor would I ever attempt to. Have you forgotten? You are a part of my programming." He reached for my mug of tea and I let him take it from my hands. Then he took my hands in his. "I did not intend to make you feel as though you did not 'matter.' I did not mean to… hurt you." He said the last two words as though he was experiencing them in a new way.

"Then why _wasn't_ I included?"

"I attempted to write a poem about you. I attempted to do so many times. Every attempt… failed."

I almost threw his oft-used phrase back at him. _I do not understand_. Instead, I just made his name into a question: "Data?"

"When it comes to you, Zoe, and your place in my life, your importance and significance to me, words are… inadequate." I was melting, until he added, "Or I am."

"Don't say that." I pulled my hands from his and moved across the couch to straddle his lap. Looking him dead in the eyes, I repeated, "Don't _ever_ say that." My conversations with Deanna and Geordi flooded into my head. "You don't have to be the perfect poet. You don't have to be the perfect boyfriend. You don't have to be the perfect _anything_. And the idea that imperfect equals inadequate is a false equivalency. Living beings are all imperfect, because perfection isn't real."

"But my inability to compose a poem about you caused you emotional distress."

"Yes, but you didn't do it on purpose."

"That is true, but – "

I didn't let him continue. "Data, we may have been together for over a year, but we're both still new at this. Living together. Planning for a future together that's years away. Neither of us have done this before, and that means there are going to be bobbles and spats and miscommunication. It doesn't mean that we moved too fast or I'm too young, and it doesn't mean that you're somehow inadequate – which you are _not_. It just means we're both learning. Both growing."

"If any of my attempts to write about you in verse had succeeded, I am not certain I would have included them in my reading," Data confessed after we were both silent for several seconds during which I changed my position so I was sitting on his lap with one of my arms around him, and his arms wrapped around me. "I believe many of my thoughts were… too private."

I chuckled softly. "Well, now I'm intrigued." I took a beat. "I could have handled things better. I should have explained _then_ why I was upset, instead of blowing up at you." I rested my head against his shoulder. "This is nice."

"I concur." I felt his head descend towards my hair, though he paused to ask, "Does this mean that we are no longer 'in a fight'?"

"Yes, it does."

He nuzzled my hair. "There is an aspect of romantic relationships we have yet to experience," he murmured, his tone softening to the one he used during our most intimate moments. "I believe it is called 'make-up sex.'"

I laughed against his chest. "I like this plan."

He carried me to our bedroom, where we made love twice that night, despite the lateness of the hour.

The first time was fast and intense, an urgent joining that left me breathless and quivering, and Data looking slightly smug.

A while later, as I was drifting toward sleep, he spoke my name. "Zoe?"

I rolled over so I could look at him. "Data?"

"Perhaps I could write a poem about you… now."

I was suddenly fully awake and attentive. "Oh?"

"If I were to compose such a poem," he began. "It would not be composed of words. It would be written in the way your hand fits within mine, and the way your breath whispers across my skin. It would be in the way your hair is an untamed creature with a life of its own, impossible to capture in paint, and the way your face betrays every emotion you experience, no matter how fleeting."

I gasped, "Data…"

He turned onto his side, so we were face to face. He cupped my cheek, and leaned close to kiss me, flooding me with his cashew essence.

"The poem of Zoe would be created by the way you instinctively move toward me in your sleep when I join you in our bed, and in the soft sighs you make when I touch you here – " he caressed my breast. "- or here –" His hand moved to my buttocks. "- or _here._ " His fingers wandered over my belly to insinuate themselves between my legs.

"It is in the way you have given me your body, and accepted mine in return - " He nudged me onto my back and began punctuating his words with kisses and flicks of his tongue, beginning with my lips and working downward. "- and in the way you trust me with your heart, and tell me that what I offer in exchange is neither a poor substitute nor somehow lacking – " the latter two were my own words "- but _enough_."

He positioned himself on top of me, and broke out of his 'poem' to ask _May I?_ In truth, he didn't request explicit permission every single time, but at that moment, I think it felt right for both of us that he did. "Please…"

Our second round of lovemaking was slow… achingly, wonderfully slow, and Data finished his composition as he moved inside my deepest center. "My poem would be written in every hope for our future together, and every plan we create. It would be in every note of music we play together – in your laughter, your tears, your anger, and your joy. And it would be in the way I remember every conversation, every nuance of your voice, your face, your body, your mind, and marvel at the ways in which we 'fit' together."

"Oh… Data…."

"That is the poem I would create for you Zoe. It is written in… us."

I was never quite sure what Data did differently that night. Sex with him was always good, but when my climax came and his lips found mine again, there was a moment when I felt like I _was_ the warp field that propelled the _Enterprise –_ incandescent and shattered into infinite particles - and then myself again, all at once.

I was crying – weeping, really - from his 'poem,' from the heightened emotions of the last week, and from this wonderful man's ability to erase my doubts and remind me of our connection.

When I could talk again – when I could _think_ again – I brushed a tender hand through Data's hair and smiled at him. "So, does this 'poem' have a title?"

His answer was both unsurprising and completely appropriate. "Devotion."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46177.65**

 **(Thursday, 6 March 2016, 20:13 hours, ship's time)**

It was another three days before the issue with people losing time, not getting rest, and disappearing from the ship was solved. It turned out that it _was_ aliens after all. Data likened them to explorers 'like ourselves' although some of their methods were a bit lethal. One crewmember died. I didn't know him, but I still felt the pall that his loss cast over the entire ship.

The _Enterprise_ entered orbit at Muther ( _It is pronounced Muu-_ _ **t'errr**_ _, Lasso kept reminding everyone at the briefing)_ at four-thirty on Tuesday morning, as planned, and by nine hundred hours I was engaged in my first official duty, serving as companion and guide to the legate's daughter, Erelan. She was my age, and in the middle of planning her wedding, and by the end of the day, we'd become friends.

By Thursday evening, I'd made my first presentation in front of the senior staff, and with the Mutherians in their quarters for the night, Data and I were finally having another date-night.

Specifically, I'd asked him to join me on the holodeck at a beachfront restaurant program that was extremely popular. The other diners were holographic, but the food was real – fish tacos for me, bean and cheese burrito for Data – and the paper lanterns that framed the outdoor dining space mixed with the sound of the ocean lapping at the shore lent a magical quality to the not-quite-twilight sky.

"Okay," I asked when we were nearly done with dinner, and I was contemplating dessert. "Truth. How badly did I suck this morning?"

"You are referring to your presentation on the Mutherian petition for admittance into the Federation?"

"Yes."

"You were poised and well-spoken, and your research and attention to detail were evident."

"But…?"

"You seemed anxious."

"I was. Actually, I was terrified."

"But you are a seasoned performer."

"Acting isn't the same. You know this. Acting is being someone else. This morning… that was just plain old, ordinary Zoe, talking to a room of big damned heroes, one of whom I'm madly in love with. I didn't want to disappoint Lasso. I didn't want to disappoint Captain Picard. I _really_ didn't want to have to face you if I'd failed. So, yeah, I was terrified."

"Hmh."

His non-verbal response made me smile. "Before you launch into a lecture about how I'll be less anxious next time, could we have a slight change of venue?"

"Where would you like to go?"

"There are lounge-beds on the beach – big enough for two. I want to watch the sunset over the water. Then maybe a swim. Night swimming is safe in this program, isn't it?"

We left our table and walked down to the beach. As soon as our feet were on sand, the restaurant disappeared and the lounge-bed I'd mentioned came into view, a small table with a glowing lantern on either side. I kicked off my sandals and curled up on the bed. Data did the same, having finally given up on the notion of socks with sandals.

He wrapped his arm around me and I cuddled against him, and we were quiet together as the sun began to sink below the horizon.

When the sky had turned a rosy color and the water looked like glitter, I turned my attention to the man I loved, stretching up to coax a kiss from his lips before I asked, "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

I nestled even closer to him, reveling in the sound – the subtle feeling – the constant _thrum_ of his internal systems. Then I asked the question that had been noodling around my brain for over a week, the question that I knew he would understand was another way for me to say _I love you, and I love who and what you are._

"Why does the sunset turn red?"

* * *

 **Notes:** Wow, I had not intended to take more than a month for this update, I swear. Autoimmune conditions suck! (Okay, I was also wrapped up in HorrorDailies. If you like spooky stories check out the October posts in my blog at MissMeliss DOT com, or the last two episodes of my podcast which is at BathtubMermaid DOT com.)

Special thanks to the Brain Trust – you know who you are. I love you all, and I appreciate that you put up with me.

And finally: this chapter revolves around the episode "Schisms," and, I confess, I've known for _months_ what the final line would be, I just wasn't sure how to get there. The poem at the beginning is from the episode and technically Brannon Braga wrote it. Lasso and the Mutherians are all mine, and eventually Lasso might actually get a scene of his own, but it's more fun for me to keep him as someone off-screen.


	5. The Drop-In

**The Drop-In**

 **Stardate 46199.99**

 **(Friday, 14 March 2369, 23:59 hours, ship's time)**

"Okay, Amanda, truth time: how'd you like your first social event on the _Enterprise_?" I asked the exchange student who had arrived a few days earlier for an exploratory internship before starting Starfleet Academy in the fall.

The blonde girl – why _were_ all my female friends blonde, anyway? – offered a bright smile. "I wasn't expecting board games to be so popular. I mean, you're surrounded by some of the most cutting-edge technology in the Federation." She hesitated for a beat then tacked on, "Not that _Flight Pass_ isn't one of my favorites."

"Couldn't tell by the way you trounced us all," I said amiably. "It's good for the boys to lose from time to time. Keeps them humble."

"And the girls?"

"Well, we're always full of dignity and grace. Can't you tell?"

We both laughed.

"So, you don't ever have access to the more… contemporary… features of the ship?"

"Oh, no. We do. There was one time a few years ago, where we actually managed to wrangle use of the astrometrics lab to play zero-gravity laser tag, and you should ask Josh about the time he got busted for hacking a training simulation holo-program so we could play Battleship with 'real' starships."

"You're kidding!" Amanda's face telegraphed her disbelief.

I gave her my best would-I-lie expression. "You met the boy. What do _you_ think?" Her grin and nod were all the answer I needed. "Most of us have alternative education plans for at least part of our studies, as well." I continued. "Sort of like what you're doing with Dr. Crusher? Josh is working with the engineering crew instead of doing regular physics. Dana's biology class has her doing work in hydroponics…"

"And you, Zoe?"

"Oh, me… I'm finishing a biology credit in the aquatics lab," I said after a pause that was just a little too long. "And I'm working with the Protocol and JAG officers on the ship in lieu of my last semester of high school." We entered the turbo-lift and I requested Deck Eight, while she asked for Deck Eleven.

"And you live with Commander Data, right? Is he your sponsor or your guardian?"

I stared at her, confused. Had she _really_ not been told about me and the ship's second officer? "Neither," I said. "we're…" but I faltered, not sure how to label my relationship with Data for someone who wasn't quite part of the _Enterprise_ family. Saying we were lovers seemed tacky. Calling him my partner felt pretentious, even if it was accurate, and while we used words like 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' between ourselves, those terms were beginning to feel too limited, at least to me.

"She's trying to find a polite way to tell you that she and the android are living in delicious sin," came a voice that was both smarmy and vaguely familiar. In a sort of reverse Cheshire Cat effect, a body formed around the last echo of the words.

A body dressed in an admiral's uniform.

" _You!_ " I breathed, staring at the rather unconventional drop-in.

"Close," he said. "But wrong letter. It's _Q_ , actually."

"Q?" Amanda asked. "Q who?"

"Q him," I said. "And he's _not_ someone you should get to know."

"Who, me?" His eyes were dancing. I knew he was playing with us.

"Yes, Q. You. I've heard the stories."

"Now, now," he admonished me, going so far as to wag a finger in my face. "Do you believe _everything_ you hear?" He lowered his voice, asking almost seductively, "Have I ever _actually_ harmed you?"

"Well, no. But you did 'vanish' the entire senior staff of the ship the last time you were here."

"Did I?" he asked. "Oh, yes! I did! I wanted those dullards who run this ship to take themselves a little less seriously."

Data had told me what had really gone on in Q's version of Sherwood Forest, and I'd heard more of the details from Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher since then. "I think you just wanted to see Captain Picard in tights."

I expected him to glower or loom or something else that beings like him generally did when interacting with people they consider to be beneath them. Instead, he clapped his hands together in childlike glee. "Too right!"

Q seemed about to say something else, but there were no words, only his eyes locked on mine, and suddenly I could feel him, _sense_ him, a dark, roiling power that tickled the edges of my perception. It reminded me of the way the kids in an ancient horror novel had described meeting the multidimensional creature they just called _It_ , except there was no malevolence, just… energy. Energy that seemed constrained by the most fragile of forces.

I should have been terrified, but he was just so irritating, I forgot to feel fear.

The power was gone in an instant, and he became a study in artless ease "So you're the girl who's captured the tin man's heart. Didn't know Mr. Data had it in him. You might be worthy of my attention after all… Zuey, isn't it?"

"It's _Zoe_ ," I corrected.

"Mmm. So it is." The turbo-lift came to a halt at bridge level, having completely bypassed either of the decks Amanda and I had requested. "Here's my stop. Do send my regards to your digital darling." He paused, then turned his focus to my companion, who had been silently watching our entire exchange. "I believe I'll be seeing _you_ later."

And then he was gone in a flash of blue light, and the turbo-lift doors hadn't even opened.

"Who was – what was – that?"

"That was Q," I said, unhelpfully.

"That much, I got. But… he knew you."

"We met once, briefly. He's some super-powerful alien, or something… I've never been entirely clear on what, or where he's from. Only that he has a 'thing' for this ship, in general, and Captain Picard, specifically." I shared the sum of my paltry knowledge about the so-not-an-Admiral.

"Maybe I should ask Dr. Crusher," Amanda murmured.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Probably a good idea." I told the computer to return to our original destinations, but since we were now going up instead of down, my stop would come first.

"Zoe?" Amanda asked just as the doors were opening on my deck. "Why do you think he wants to see me?"

I shrugged. "No idea. But if you're worried tell Commander Riker or Dr. Crusher. They won't let anything happen to you." I took a beat, and lightened my tone. "I hope you come hang out with us again some time. The people on this ship are, for the most part, pretty cool, but even super-geniuses like you can use friends your own age."

She laughed, as I'd hoped she would. "I'm not all that," she protested. "Mostly, science just comes easily for me."

I had the feeling there was more to what she said than I was really hearing, but it was late, and Q's little visit had thrown me for a bit of a loop. I stepped out of the 'lift and was on my way home before the doors slid shut behind me.

Spot came to greet me when I entered the quarters I'd shared with Data for nearly a year, her meows a piteous sound in the dim space. "Where's Daddy?" I asked her. Referring to my partner as the cat's 'father' was something I did partly to tease him, but he really did dote on the creature.

 _Meeeeooooowwww,_ came Spot's oh-so-helpful reply.

"Yes, I know he's not here," I said. I knew we weren't _really_ having a conversation, but she liked to hear our voices, and speaking out loud made the space feel less lonely. The cat jumped onto Data's console, where I saw a message indicator flickering on the monitor. I sat in my boyfriend's chair, and activated the playback.

\- _Zoe, I have been called to the bridge, but I should be home by zero-two-hundred hours. Be advised, Q is aboard-ship; please be cautious._

I laughed at the earnest warning I'd been given. "Way ahead of you, my love," I muttered to his image on the screen. I deleted the message, refilled Spot's water dish, and moved into the bedroom to change for bed. I wasn't tired enough to sleep, but I wasn't in the mood for a video, either. Instead, I read until Data returned on the dot of two.

"Hi, honey; you're home!" I called one of his favorite lines from the bedroom when I heard the door open and close.

"Zoe, you are awake!" It always amused me when he was surprised by my nocturnal tendencies. He came directly to the bedroom, bent to kiss me, then began shedding his uniform while we talked. "You know I do not expect you to 'wait up' for me."

"Wasn't tired," I explained. "Book was good. How did Q know you and I were a couple?" I asked the question with as much nonchalance as I could muster.

His fingers froze at the fastening to his trousers. "You had an encounter with Q?"

"He hijacked the turbo-lift when Amanda and I were on our way home; she's really nice, by the way. Bright, like Wes, but not as socially awkward." I wasn't generally given to appraising my friends, but I knew that Amanda was being evaluated for the Academy, even as she was evaluating Starfleet. "Anyway, he said to send his regards to my 'digital darling' – that's you, of course – and mentioned that he'd see Amanda later."

"'Digital darling?' Hmh." Trust him to fixate on the wrong piece of information.

"I think he likes alliteration," I offered. "Do you know why he'd be interested in Amanda?"

If I hadn't been looking for a reaction, I wouldn't have noticed the faint alteration to my boyfriend's features. In that split-second, I realized that he'd chosen to respond to the self-described omnipotent being's nickname as a deflection, and that he knew why Amanda had caught said being's interest. He was, I surmised, trying to determine what, if anything, he could tell me.

Shirtless, with his pants still on, but unfastened, Data sat on the side of the bed. As he removed his boots and socks, he said, "This is not technically classified information but I must ask that you keep it between us."

I set my padd aside. "I promise I won't breathe a word of it," I said.

"Very good." The crisp phrase was one he typically used when he was in what I referred to as 'officer mode,' and I had to work to hide my grin: I thought he was hot when he spoke that way. "Q's interest in Amanda Rogers is due to the fact that she is also a member of the Q Continuum."

I goggled at him. "You're kidding."

"Zoe." His tone was reproachful. "You know that I am not."

"I know," I said. "I'm sorry. Wait. She's a Q? Does she have powers, like actual-Q? Does she _know_ she's a Q? Is she here on their behalf?"

"As far as I am aware," Data answered calmly, "she may have powers, but likely does not have great control over them. As well, she apparently believes herself to be an 'ordinary' young woman."

"Hmm." My version of the non-verbal sound would never be as adorable as his. "Well, it's good that she's here, then."

"May I ask why you say that?"

"Because," I explained. "The people on this ship know how to handle Q, which is good, but they're also incredibly well-versed at making people who are alone in the world feel like part of a family."

"I had not considered the latter point," Data admitted. "It would seem that Amanda is lucky that you have befriended her."

I shrugged. "That's not luck; it's just life. _Lucky_ is what I am, to have you in my life."

"As I am, to have you, Zoe," he responded. He stood up again, to remove the rest of his clothing, and I was struck - not for the first time – at how attractive he was: the long lines of his arms and legs, the chest that I couldn't ever get enough of, certain other assets that I was privileged to be the only person to see - I really _was_ lucky. "Is something wrong?" he asked, apparently misinterpreting my acute attention.

I shook my head. "Not a thing. I just…" I blushed. "I just like to look at you," I admitted.

I half expected him to begin his next sentence with "Ah!" and some observation about human sexuality. He surprised me by simply tilting his head slightly, and letting the rare real smile appear at the corners of his mouth. "I also enjoy looking at you, Zoe," he told me. "However, I prefer to _touch_ you whenever possible." He slid into bed next to me, and tweaked a strand of my hair, whispering into my ear. "Touching you is best accomplished when you are not covered by one of my t-shirts."

I laughed and pulled his ancient (and unworn until I'd claimed it) Starfleet Academy tee over my head, tossing it to the floor. I'd likely find Spot curled up on it in the morning, but I didn't mind. Data extinguished the lights, and I turned on my side, facing him. Despite the lateness of the hour, our lovemaking was unhurried, beginning with slow kisses and teasing caresses and ending with me collapsing on top of him in a sweaty and satisfied heap.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46201.79**

 **(Saturday, 15 March 2369, 15:43 hours, ship's time)**

Ever since the soothsayer in Shakespeare's play warned Caesar to "beware the ides of March," that day has been somewhat tainted. Okay, out in space we primarily used stardates to track time, but the _Enterprise_ was Starfleet's flagship, and as such, we had closer ties to Earth's calendar than a colony world of mostly Vulcanoid people, say, or the population of Tagra IV, where we had been in orbit for several days while the science-y types were trying to solve an ecological disaster.

That particular March 15th was already bad enough. The Tagrans had created so much air pollution that even Earth at the worst part of the twenty-first century had never had air quite so brown or chunky, and Geordi, Data, and the rest of the team were pulling their collective hair out trying to fix the fancy generator that helped scrub the atmosphere, reverse the effects, and create a solution for the future. Then there was Q, self-proclaimed omnipotent being, who was on board to scrutinize and possibly recruit a student intern.

The box that was waiting on our dining table when I came home from a late lunch with Data and Geordi (a much-needed glimpse of each other for my partner for me, a much-needed break in work for our friend) was only the last element needed to make the day truly dark.

As boxes go, it wasn't particularly ominous. It wasn't particularly large, and it didn't rattle or tick. Actually, it was gift-wrapped in gold tissue and tied with a black ribbon, and there was a white card with my name written on it in strong, angular writing. A casual observer might have mistaken the handwriting for Data's, but I knew my lover was left-handed. This script was written by someone right-handed.

It was the same handwriting, the same kind of paper, that had been tucked into the box with the pigeon that had arrived for my birthday, which meant it could only have come from one person.

"Lore." The name slipped past my lips without my willing it, and I shivered. Was Lore on the ship? Had he been in our quarters? Was I supposed to leave, or call security or…?

My hand went to the comm-badge I'd resigned myself to wearing, and I contacted the one person I was certain would know what to do. "Zoe Harris to Lt. Commander Data," I said after the chirp that told me a channel was open.

It seemed to take forever for him to respond.

 _This is Data. Zoe, what is wrong?_

Trust him to recognize that something was amiss, just from the fact of my calling. "I seem to have received a gift… at least, it's gift-wrapped. I'm pretty sure it's from…" I hesitated, not sure if I should speak his name over an open channel.

\- _Zoe?_

"I'm pretty sure it's from Lore," I said quickly. "And I don't know if I should open it, or wait for you to be here after your shift, or call security or…"

Data cut me off with a simple statement.

 _I am on my way._

Then he closed the channel.

I didn't know what to do while I waited. Standing there staring at the thing seemed pointless, but letting it out of my sight seemed stupid. And then… what if it _wasn't_ from Lore? What if it was something else, and the handwriting was just similar.

But I didn't think it was that innocuous.

I had a gut feeling.

By the time Data came through our door, I'd retreated to the couch, huddled into my usual corner, holding a weirdly compliant Spot.

"Zoe…" My name was his only greeting, and then he turned toward the box on our table, running a tricorder over it, and finding nothing amiss. Or at least, nothing that I could discern.

"The handwriting matches that on the note from your birthday," he said. "But I cannot detect anything overtly dangerous about the box itself." I didn't question his assessment; I knew his memory was perfect, and that where I was concerned his focus was generally even sharper than usual. If Data said the handwriting matched, it did.

"So… we open it?"

"I do not believe we have another option," he said, with as much empathy as he was capable of expressing.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

Data plucked the package from the table and came to sit with me, sitting as close as he could. Reaching for me with his free hand, he gripped my shoulder lightly. "Do you wish to open it yourself, or would you prefer that I do?"

I hesitated. Part of me wanted him to do it, wanted him to face whatever was inside before I would have to, and shield me from whatever Lore had planned, and I came close to letting him. After a long moment of quiet, though, I held out my hand for the box. "I'll do it."

He didn't say anything, but I got the distinct impression he was pleased with my decision, that he was proud of me. He gave me the box, and I took a deep breath, then slid the ribbon away. While I normally ripped tissue to shreds, this time I peeled it away carefully, assuming Data would want to keep it. Inside was a black box, but not the kind that was used for jewelry or anything like that. Just a box that happened to be black.

Gingerly, I lifted the lid, and found another note written in the same script. "Sorry I missed our anniversary, Pigeon. I hope this pleases you."

"The only thing Lore could _possibly_ do that would please me," I muttered, "is die." As soon as I spoke the words though, I realized that whatever else the other android might be, he _was_ still the closest thing Data had to actual family. I also realized that it wasn't entirely accurate. Surprising myself, I amended, "That's not true. I don't want him dead, not really… I want him locked up somewhere for all eternity."

Data and I shared a look. He said nothing, but when his yellow eyes met mine, I could tell that he was thinking the same thing I was: eternity in prison, for an android, would be _worse_ than death.

I handed my lover the card.

"Your anniversary," he murmured. "He is referring to…" It was rare for Data to leave a sentence unfinished intentionally.

"He's referring to when he raped me." Speaking the words was something I had to do from time to time. I'd discussed it with Deanna when I was still her patient, and I'd discussed it with my partner on more than once occasion. "Not exactly a date I feel like commemorating," I managed to quip.

"Nor I," Data agreed.

I pulled apart the tissue within the box and removed the object that had been tucked inside. It was a brooch, shaped like a pigeon, and there was no denying that the workmanship was exquisite. Strips of something like leather or rubber or… something else… had been fitted with tiny bits of metal, almost like cloisonné, but not. The single eye was a black bead that caught the light perfectly.

If Data had gifted me with a piece of jewelry like this – not a pigeon, obviously, but of a similar style - I'd have loved it.

The last gift from Lore, I'd flung into the holographic sea, needing to hear it splash. This time, I just pushed it to the far end of the coffee table and turned to face my partner. "Why is he doing this to me, Data? He's not here to see me freak out. He's not embedding recording devices - he isn't, right?"

"He is not."

"Then _why?_ What does he get out of it?"

Data had never seemed helpless to me before, but his answer spoke volumes beyond the actual words: "I do not know."

I sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that." I took a beat, staring at the bird in the box. "Do I _want_ to - know how it got here – I mean - not so much on the ship. I'm guessing he used normal mail service like last time, but… into our quarters?"

"I have asked Lt. Worf to analyze the data from our door." It was possible, I knew, to pull usage logs for every door on the ship, so this didn't surprise me. "I will also remove the brooch to my lab for a deeper scan, but I do not think we will learn anything new."

"No, I know. It's a longshot. But at the same time, if you _didn't_ do all the scans, there'd be something there, just because the universe is perverse that way."

Data didn't agree with my statement – he couldn't – but he didn't disagree, either. Instead, he gathered the box, the wrapping, and the note together, in preparation to drop it at his lab on his way back to the bridge. "I am afraid I cannot stay. Will you be alright until my duty shift is over?"

I managed a watery smile. "I'm going to lock the door, change to sweats, and watch cheesy videos for the rest of the day, but I'm pretty sure I'm not going to fall apart, and if I get spooked I promise to call Deanna or Dana or someone to come hang out with me."

I stayed on the couch but he rose to leave, though he bent to kiss me before he stepped away. "Do not hesitate to contact me if – " he began, but that time, I cut _him_ off.

"I'll be _fine_ ," I said. "I'm not even afraid this time. I'm more… angry… I think. Yeah. Angry." I was examining my own feelings out loud, and in the back of my mind I could perceive Data analyzing my analysis. "And confused," I added. "You're due back around twenty-two hundred hours?"

"That is correct."

"One more kiss?" He bent toward me again, and I put my hand on his side to hold him there, prolonging the contact. "I love you," I said.

"I am devoted to you, my dearest."

I watched him leave our quarters, and even managed to enjoy the view.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46209.71**

 **(Tuesday, 18 March 2369, 13:07 hours, ship's time)**

Ten-Forward was always busy between eleven-thirty and thirteen-thirty hours, and that day was no exception. Fortunately, even though I was arriving a bit after thirteen hundred, I didn't have to worry about finding a place to sit. I was meeting friends.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, as I dropped into the open chair at the table where my newest friend on the _Enterprise,_ Amanda, and my oldest friend on the ship, Dana, were already waiting. A third chair was also occupied by a young woman of about our age, who had dark hair, green eyes, and a heavily pregnant belly. "There was an incident with a surly Vulcan, a broken padd and an orange cat who may not live to survive another day. Hey, Serena. I'm glad you came." We'd been trying to get Rryl's girlfriend to join our lunches for months.

"Rryl said sitting around our quarters was unhealthy," she admitted, "and I finally ran out of advanced coursework. I'm trying to complete my first year of university courses via correspondence."

"Simultaneously with your last year of high school?" I asked. "Wait, aren't you a year behind us?"

"Summer session. Original credit," she answered with a grin. "That's one of the reasons I never hung out with everyone. And I'm glad I pushed. At least now I can take a year off once this one is born, and not be behind."

"Over-achiever, much?" Dana asked, but her tone was all amused affection.

"As if any of us are any better!" Amanda pointed out. Then she asked, "What was that about a cat and a Vulcan?"

I grinned. "Data's cat Spot has a knack for escaping from our quarters."

"Oh, so Spot's only _Data's_ cat?" Dana teased.

"When she's mischievous, yes," I answered my best friend. Then I turned back to Amanda. "She ended up surprising Sokel and me during my Vulcan lesson this morning, knocked over an incense burner and a pot of tea."

Amanda laughed. "I have dogs at home. They've done everything from stealing food from the table to sneaking into bedrooms and eating slippers. Animals are great just when you think they've done it all they do some…"

She trailed off, her gaze drifting away from our table and toward another, on the other end of the lounge.

We all followed the direction of her stare, and Dana and I shared a look, realizing at the same time who was the object of her attention.

"Nice view?" I asked Amanda, teasing her a little.

"He's lovely," she said, and then blushed and amended. "I mean, yes, it's lovely."

The other three of us stifled our laughter, and I held my next question as the server delivered our food. Dana, who knew my tastes, had ordered a chicken Caesar salad on my behalf, and I had to laugh as I dug into it.

"Something wrong with your food, Zoe?" my best friend wanted to know.

"Not really. It's just… Caesar – the one from Shakespeare, not the salad guy – has been on my brain lately. Saturday was the ides of March."

"Beware…" Serena intoned.

"Exactly."

"Something happened." Dana wasn't asking.

"Received an unexpected gift from afar," I said vaguely. "I'll explain later. Right now, I'm more interested in something a bit more immediate." I used my best 'reporter' voice and asked, "So, tell us Ms. Rogers; how long have you been crushing on the first officer of Starfleet's flagship?"

"It's not a -" she began protesting, but our three expectant faces made her change tack. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only to those of us who have been through it," I assured. "Trust me, crushing on officers is hardly a new thing."

"Though most of us don't end up with our crushes turning into committed relationships," Dana added. "Zoe and Data are a rare exception."

Serena smiled at our new friend. "At least Commander Riker will be kind to you, if he ever finds out."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Amanda said.

"I am." Dana and I both turned sharply to look at the younger woman at our table. "Don't be so shocked that you didn't know. As you said, I'm a year behind all of you, and not part of the elite math group. Commander Riker was on the same transport as my parents and me when we joined the _Enterprise_. There was a minor engine issue, and I was afraid. He was very patient with a terrified teenager, and I couldn't help it. Of course, once we were aboard this ship, I kept trying to figure out his schedule, where he'd be that I could also be…."

"You _stalked_ him?" I asked. "Seriously?"

"I did," Serena admitted. "Eventually he noticed, or someone told him what was happening, and he brought me a brownie in Ten-Forward and told me he was flattered but that he was far too busy… he could have reminded me I was too young, or any number of things… but he didn't."

"Wow," Amanda breathed. We were all quiet for several minutes, mostly because we were eating. As we finished, it was she who broke the silence, asking, "So, are Counselor Troi and Commander Riker… _together_."

Dana, Serena, and I exchanged glances, and wordlessly, the other two deferred to me. The part of me that was grown up enough to be living with my partner knew I should redirect her interest. The part of me that was still technically a teenaged girl was not quite as bright. "They're good friends," I said. "And I'm pretty sure they have a history. And to be honest, I've always sort of thought of them as a single unit, but technically – or at least _publicly_ – they're not a couple." The adult part of my brain kicked in, even as her expression was resolving into something considerably less like a schoolgirl with a crush and more like a woman on the prowl. "But Amanda… I'm not sure hoping for something with him is a good idea."

"This from the woman who is living with her lover?" Her expression told me that she didn't mean it as cattily as it sounded.

Even so, Dana and Serena excused themselves to go back to class, though the former reminded me, "You owe me a story about whatever your 'gift' was."

I nodded my acknowledgement then turned back to the blonde who had stayed at the table. "I said it as the woman who wouldn't want to see a new friend get hurt," I explained. I took a beat, then continued. "I know you probably don't want it to be common knowledge, but Data told me that you might be a Q. Is that true?"

"Q says so. You were right about him, by the way. He's not someone I'd want to know if I had a choice. He's been… sort of testing me."

"I do _not_ want to know what a test from Q entails."

"It's… odd," she said after a moment's thought. "Half the time he's challenging me not to use the powers of the Q, while the other half he's helping me hone them."

"Do you _want_ to be a Q?"

Amanda paused to think over her answer again. Or at least, that's how it appeared. "I didn't, when he first told me, but… that kind of power is difficult to turn down. But he's so… he acts like everything is a game. People dying, people getting sick. He could fix the air pollution issue on Tagra IV with a wave of his hand, but he says it's not his problem."

"I can't imagine what it must be like to be all betwixt and between the way you are," I said. "But if you ever want to talk to someone who knows all too well what it's like to be a unique being among humans, I'm sure Data would be happy to talk with you." It was all I had to offer.

"I'll think about it," she said. "Really. In the meantime, could you just pretend I never told you. I need all the friends I can get, and I don't want things to be weird."

I laughed. "No weirdness here, I promise. But… you might consider that you have as much to teach Q as to learn."

"Oh?" Amanda was obviously intrigued by my suggestion.

"Sure. You can teach them what it means to help, to perform good works. It would be the most awesome kind of subversion _ever_."

We laughed together, and then I had to leave, also. "Lasso wants me to sit in on the next meeting with the Tagran education delegation. He thinks I might have something to add 'as a student yourself, Mees Harrisss.'" I imitated my supervisor's accent on the last few words. "I'm around, though, if you need an ear."

"Thanks, Zoe. Really."

"Any time."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46223.86**

 **(Sunday, 23 March 2369, 17:02 hours, ship's time)**

Ray was late to the pool, so I started my laps without him, trying hard to lose myself in the water and the motion of my own arms and legs as I stroked and kicked. Half an hour before, noticing that I was sprawled on the couch reading, Data had asked in his gentle-but-pointed manner if I had decided to skip swimming that day.

It was his way of telling me that I had spent enough time moping around, though he would never have used such language.

I think it was also a way for him to ensure that I wasn't alone while he went back to Engineering to assist with the most recent issues on Tagra IV, where the initial pollution problem had been exacerbated by a failing reactor – one that was partly responsible for environmental controls. Geordi and Commander Riker were on the surface, and from what I'd gleaned, things were bad to the point that if the reactor blew it could set off a reaction that would turn the whole planet into a fireball.

Except, that had to be wrong. That couldn't actually happen, could it? I had to have misheard.

I refocused on my swimming. One length of the pool, then two, three, four… At some point the rhythm of my movement put me into a sort of meditative state, where it was just me and the water.

A bright blue light followed by a change in the way the water felt pulled me from my Zen space. I stopped at the wall. "Ray?" I asked as I wiped the water from my eyes with the towel I'd left on the deck.

"Wrong again!" The delighted voice could belong to only one person.

"Q." I turned around to see him walking from the deep end of the pool to the shallow end.

"I didn't realize humans fetishized water so much that you have chambers dedicated to spending time in it," he observed with an air of disgust. "How do you manage without gills?"

"Carefully," I answered. "How do _you_ manage without any sense of decency?"

"Decency? Aren't you the one wearing nearly nothing?"

I hadn't noticed his attire before but all of I sudden it connected that he was wearing another Starfleet uniform – rear admiral, this time – and then I glanced down at my utilitarian swimsuit. I had bikinis of course – Data had seen me in them more than once - but for serious swimming, a one-piece tank suit was better.

"Morality, then, I said. Amanda's just a girl, like me. Making her choose between the person she thinks she is and the being you want her to be? That's just cruel."

"Is it?" I got the sense he was holding his power back, making himself seem smaller. "How much crueler would it be to let an omnipotent being stay in the human world completely unfettered, using her powers as her whims dictated, and causing damage every time she meant to provide help."

"I don't understand." Unconsciously, I'd echoed Data's most common phrase.

"No, you don't. You can't possibly. Imagine, _Zoe_ , if you could do anything, go anywhere, at the snap of your fingers."

"Sounds pretty cool to me."

"I'm sure it does. Now imagine if you had grown up as 'just a girl, like you,' and suddenly had access to that power, using it without thought for the consequences."

"Like you do, you mean? I've heard the stories. You sent this ship into Borg space and people died. You tried to gift Will with Q powers, and got your ego bruised when he turned you down. You took the command staff on a Robin Hood adventure, but we covered that before. Data told me that there was some kind of lesson in all of those things, but I think he's giving you the benefit of the doubt. He's actually the only person on this ship who doesn't hate you, but even _he_ warned me to stay away from you." Something else connected in my brain. "But you're here seeking _me_ out. Why?"

I don't know if it was my change in tone from accusatory to inquisitive that caused him to change his mood as well, but instead of a roll of power or a petulant response, the false-admiral allowed a split-second of vulnerability to show on his face. "Didn't your silicon seductor tell you about the time I was human?"

I was starting to shiver from being motionless in the water for so long, so I pulled myself onto the deck, turning to sit down and face him. I ignored the cheesy reference to my partner and asked, "Human? You?"

He seemed surprised. "So, your lover keeps secrets from you. Interesting. Ask him about it sometime. Ask him how he risked himself to help me. And ask him what I gave him as a gift of gratitude. As to _you._ You are important to Mr. Data, so you are of interest to me."

"Get in line," I snorted. "I'm already the object of a sociopath's interest – or is that psychopath? So unless you plan to rape me and then start sending me random fish art, I don't think I'm going to be all that amusing for you."

Q stared at me again, and this time I felt it. I felt all of his power, and I had to close my eyes to ward off the dizziness. When I opened them again, he was sitting next to me, and clad only in red swim trunks. He was also completely dry. "The Q do not commit rape," he said in a voice that was almost kind, until he ruined it by adding, "We don't have to."

"Good to know," I said, because how else does one respond to a line like that?

"I offer you a bargain, Zoe Harris."

My voice dripped skepticism. "A bargain?"

"Yes. You're going to refrain from poisoning anyone else against me, and in return I will refrain from 'dropping in' on you without invitation."

"You'll refrain from dropping in on me or Data," I countered.

"Without invitation," he corrected.

I couldn't see either of us ever inviting him over for tea, but, whatever. "Fine. 'Without invitation.'"

"Done!"

He disappeared in a flash of blue light and I found myself back in the pool with a giant wave curling toward me. I was surprised to be back in the pool, shocked to see a wave there, but habit and instinct had me diving through it as it crested and following the bubbles back to the surface. Just as I broke through, I heard a voice echoing in my ears: "Invite me to the wedding, or I _will_ give you gills."

When Ray showed up a few minutes later, I was standing in the middle of the shallow end, laughing.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46226.73**

 **(Monday, 24 March 2369, 18:12 hours, ship's time)**

I didn't see Q again for a long time, and I only saw Amanda once more, very briefly. She popped into the protocol office on Monday afternoon to say goodbye.

"You've been a good friend, Zoe," she said. "I wish I could stay here. It feels like home."

I smiled. "It _is_ home for me, but I know what you mean." I hesitated for a moment, not sure I should ask my next question, but finally doing so anyway. "You fixed the reactor on Tagra IV, didn't you?" I asked.

"And removed the pollution from their atmosphere," she confirmed. "I couldn't let all those people die. Q says that makes me weak and human."

"Q _wishes_ he had that element of humanity," I told her, and while she thought I was kidding, I knew it was true, at least partly. "I meant what I said before about subversion. Teach them what being human really means," I said. "I think they need you more than you need them."

"How did you get so wise?" she teased.

"Living with an android teaches you to see things in new ways," I answered. "And… hanging out with Guinan kind of does the same."

"If you ever need a favor…" Amanda began, but she didn't finish the sentence. "I have to go," she said. "Tell the others…"

I grinned. "I know. I will. And Amanda?"

"Yes?"

"Don't forget to have _fun._ "

She grinned at me and then swept her hands up in front of her and disappeared.

I sent a message to Dana and Josh confirming our regular lunch on Wednesday, and another to Serena, asking her if I could drop by sometime during the week – I was determined to be a better friend to her.

As I made my way home, I ran into a vaguely familiar figure in the form of Clara Sutter. "Hi, Zoe…" the little girl greeted me as I joined her in the turbo-lift. "Did you like the package?"

I'd been about to return her greeting with some throw-away line about school or something, but her question made me freeze. "Package?" I asked her.

"The one that came a week or two ago? It looked so fancy with the black ribbon and gold wrapping."

"You saw it?" I asked. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and demand that she tell me everything she knew, but I managed not to. "Where did you see it?"

"Dad's assigned to the quarter-master's office this month," she said. "And he said it was marked for hand delivery, so he had it at home so he could do that. I wanted to know what was inside, but he said he didn't know. Was it something amazing? Was it a gift for you from Commander Data?" Her voice sounded like she was imagining something incredibly romantic.

"It was a gift from… someone else," I hedged, recognizing that Clara _was_ just a little kid, and didn't know any better. "It was a brooch – a pin – but it wasn't to my taste."

"Oh. That's too bad."

"Yeah," I agreed. "Yeah, it is."

The lift stopped at one of the residential decks, and Clara excused herself and left, all bouncy innocence.

I made my way to the aquatics lab to check in with Lt. Nguyen and feed the latest residents of the big tank – a pair of Flash-fish from a beta-quadrant planet called Tiburon. They were headed to the San Diego Zoo, by way of a couple of different starships, a gift from the newest member of the Federation.

They were gorgeous creatures, known for flashing a sort of firefly-like luminescence when they were excited or afraid. Food was on the list of things that typically excited them, so I always enjoyed feeding them, even though their food was live baitfish.

The aquatics lab had always been a place of peace for me, so it wasn't unusual that I was still there at eighteen-hundred hours, when Data's shift ended. What _was_ unusual was that he came to find me there.

"Am I intruding?" he asked as he entered the darkened space where the big tank was located. Blue light kept us from being in total darkness. "We had agreed to meet for dinner in Ten-Forward," he reminded me.

"You are never an intrusion," I said. I would have been happy to leave it at that but his attitude made it clear that he expected more. "I needed to be somewhere calm so I could think," I elaborated. "Fish are calming." I paused to take in and let out a slow, deep breath. "Is something wrong?"

"I believe I am meant to be asking you that," Data admonished gently, though there was a hint of teasing in his voice. "Did Q pay another visit before he and Amanda left the ship?" I'd told him about the 'bargain' I'd made with our uninvited guest.

I shook my head. "No, he said he wouldn't, and he didn't. I just… I found something out today, and I'm not sure if it means anything, or not."

"Perhaps if you tell me, I can help you 'figure it out?'"

I smiled at him, knowing that even in the dim light he would catch the gesture. "It's the kind of thing I'd rather discuss with my partner than with the second officer of the ship." I used phrases like that whenever I wanted what I said to be off the record. "Is that okay, even though we're here, and not at home?"

"Technically, Zoe, the entire ship is 'home,'" Data pointed out. "But yes. I will listen in 'boyfriend mode.'"

I smiled at his phrasing, but sobered almost instantly, as I explained, "I ran into Clara Sutter in the 'lift earlier, and she asked me if I liked the present I received. She thought the gold paper and black ribbon were 'fancy.'"

"I was not aware you had befriended the Sutter child."

"That's just it, Data. I haven't. I've met her once. Maybe twice. And okay, the first time was when you were seeing me off last October, but… "

"But there is no reason she should have seen a gift meant for you?"

"Yeah. So, I asked her where she saw it and she told me her father was assigned to a rotation with the quartermaster and that it was in their quarters for 'hand delivery.' And that just… it seemed really odd to me. Every other time I've received physical mail it's either been beamed to my location, or I've been called to go fetch it."

"That is the usual protocol," Data confirmed. After a brief moment of searching, and the signature eye-flickering that came with it, he added, "Ensign Sutter is not currently on the duty roster for any department other than engineering."

"Why do I get the feeling that I'm not just talking to my boyfriend anymore?"

"Because you are not," he said. "There has been an apparent breech of protocol, at the least, and possibly of ship's security. We must look into it."

I turned my face away from Data's, focusing on the fish. "I assumed as much, but… does it have to be tonight? Couldn't it be first thing in the morning?"

"As you received the most recent gift from Lore over a week ago, I do not think it is emergent. May I ask why you wish there to be a delay?"

"Two reasons, but one's sort of selfish."

"Tell me," he encouraged.

"Amanda left today. I know we've only known each other for a couple of weeks, but it was nice having a friend who wasn't stuck in classes like Josh and Dana. I'm feeling a little down, and I was hoping for a low-key night with my boyfriend." I turned back to him and flashed a wry grin. "That would be the selfish reason. The other is… Clara's a little kid, and she doesn't deserve to have a security team barge into her home to question her father when it could be done tomorrow when she's in classes."

"Zoe…" Data began, but I couldn't tell from one word if he was in officer-mode or boyfriend-mode, so I cut him off.

"I know. It's ship's business, and you have to do your job. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"Zoe," he repeated my name. "It _is_ ship's business, but that does not mean you are not entitled to voice an opinion, especially since, in this case, your suggestion is valid. I will contact Lt. Worf in the morning, and we will ensure that Ensign Sutter is questioned discreetly."

I nodded, but it took me a minute to give him words. "Okay. Thank you." I turned back to the fish in their tank again, attempting to hide the tears that had formed inexplicably in my eyes.

I should have known better than to try to fool Data. His arm was around my shoulders at once, pulling me close to his solid frame. "Dearest?"

"I'm sorry," I said, turning so I could bury my face against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I keep thinking I'm fine, and then he sends another bird, and I feel like it just happened. Does he have people working for him, or was this a one-time thing? Will I ever feel safe again? Are there going to be more birds dropping into my life at random intervals?"

It's a rare thing for an android to be at a loss for words, but I could tell that Data really had no idea what answer to give. In the end, he opted for honesty. "I do not know," he said. "But I will do my best both to keep you safe and to discover the truth."

Sitting in the watery blue light of the aquatics lab with his arm wrapped around me, it was easy to believe him.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46232.54**

 **(Wednesday, 26 March 2369, 21:03 hours, ship's time)**

"I shall remember: When Caesar says 'do this,' it is perform'd." Reg Barclay was reading the part of Antony as we read through the script of Julius Caesar, and he was doing surprisingly well. I could actually see him playing the part, if the drama group chose to produce this play. Dr. Crusher had invited us to her quarters to read through several different scripts, some for just a few scenes, some longer, since the elementary school kids were using the auditorium all week.

Data, playing Caesar, had the next line: "Set on: and leave no ceremony out."

"Caesar!" I read the Soothsayer's line. We were rotating through the smaller parts on a scene-by-scene basis.

"Ha! who calls?" Data answered, in character. I thought the way he raised his voice and sharpened his pitch on the first word was kind of hot.

"Bid every noise be still: peace yet again!" Will Riker read, as Casca. I'd been surprised that he hadn't picked Brutus, but he'd claimed he wasn't entirely comfortable with Elizabethan language.

"Who is it in the press that calls on me? I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, Cry 'Caesar!' Speak; Caesar is turn'd to hear." I hadn't seen Data perform since we'd been in _Little Women_ together almost a year before, but, even more than Reg, he'd improved.

I made my voice as dark and ominous as possible. "Beware the ides of March," I intoned, enjoying the irony. That date had come and gone only recently, and it had been fraught with… well, not danger, exactly, but drama, I guess.

The reading went to about twenty-one hundred hours, when Dr. Crusher dismissed us with the reminder that she'd let us know in a week what script she'd settled on, and which roles we'd been assigned. 'Stealth casting,' had worked so well for _Little Women_ that she wanted to try it again.

"Hey, Reg… you did really well tonight," I called out to the ever-anxious lieutenant as he, Data, and I arrived at the corridor junction where our paths would diverge. I nudged my partner subtly, and he echoed my assessment.

"I concur with Zoe, Lieutenant." His tone was bright and upbeat. "Your performance skills are much improved."

"Than – thank you, sir, Zoe." Reg said, stammering only a little. "Goodnight." He turned around and continued on his way, and we entered the turbo-lift that would take us one deck up to our quarters.

Inside, I said to Data, "You were pretty impressive, tonight, too, mister. If we end up doing this play, you'd do well in the lead."

"Do you believe I can adequately portray Caesar's passion and his anguish?"

I put my hands on his chest, then slid them up and over his shoulders to clasp them behind his neck. "I _know_ you can."

"Thank you, Zoe." His arms came around me, and his hands met behind my back, resting in the curve of my lower back. "You were quite effective as Portia," he said, before he bent his head and kissed me.

I didn't bother pointing out that I was too young to play Brutus's wife with any real conviction or credibility. I was too busy enjoying the moment.

It was a moment that ended far too soon. "I am due on the bridge at twenty-two hundred hours," Data reminded me when he pulled back to let me breathe. "I may not be home before you wake tomorrow, but I will make time if you wish to meet for lunch."

It had been on the tip of my tongue to tease him about checking my availability, but when I opened my mouth to respond, what came out was, "Can I come?"

"Zoe?"

"Last fall, when I wanted to observe you on the bridge, Captain Picard changed the schedule so we'd have more time together. Tonight… maybe it's _Julius Caesar_ , or maybe it's just that we still don't have any clear answers from Ensign Sutter, but I'm feeling a little jumpy, and I think watching you in command would help."

There was no up-quirk of his lips, but the faint shift in his focus told me he understood that I was combining my need to feel protected with my desire to understand his work better, and that my request had somehow pleased him. "The captain is off-ship, attending a conference, but I will confirm approval with Commander Riker," he said, and lifted his hand to activate his comm-badge.

I managed to stay his hand just in time. "In a minute," I said, adjusting my grip to twine my fingers with his. "I need a little more time of just us, first."

"As you wish." We relocated to the couch, where I curled up against him just enjoying the close contact. Some nights 'couch time' ended in make-out sessions, or more, but that night it was enough just to be touching and talking.

"I was invited to a sort of graduation party / spring break week on Risa," I shared after a minute or two. "It's for all the graduating seniors in the sector who live on ships or bases. Dana and Josh are going. Serena wants Rryl to go, but he's not sure about leaving her."

"I am aware of the event," Data said. "Do you not want to go?"

I'd been mulling it over since the previous morning, when the invitation had arrived. "A year ago, I _might_ have jumped at it – considered it sort of a 'last hurrah' before shifting my focus to college – but a year ago, I was already practically living with you, and there's an equal chance that I might not have."

"It is your decision, of course, Zoe, but I do not like the idea that our relationship is keeping you from enjoying typical coming-of-age rituals."

I knew he meant what he said. I also knew that I had no interest in going. "If you really want to mark some artificial transition point for me, then let's take a vacation sometime between now and the end of August, somewhere private. But otherwise? Data, I haven't been a typical student or a typical teenager since we became a couple, and my coming-of-age began the moment I stuck that chip in your head, and finished when you brought me home from Lore's ship."

His response to that was to squeeze me a little bit tighter, cuddle me a little bit closer. "If you are certain, then I will not 'push' you to attend."

"And the vacation?"

"Do you have a destination in mind?"

"I do, but it's a little unorthodox."

"Tell me."

"Your house. The house on Terlina III. I meant what I said when we left: I want to go back, spend more time there without a giant project hanging over our heads. I'm… I can't explain it but being there feels… right."

"Then we will go," he said simply.

We lingered on the couch a little bit longer, and then I got up to use the bathroom and change to fresh clothing, and he contacted Will, who was happy to approve my observer status for the evening.

 **(=A=)**

I'd been on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ a couple of times, but only briefly. Once, Data used the bridge as a shortcut to get me home on time, and more recently, I'd had to cross it in order to attend meetings in Captain Picard's ready room.

Being on the bridge during the night watch, however, was distinctly different. First of all, there was a sort of… buzz… that I hadn't noticed before. It was a little more subdued than the kind of workplace banter I'd seen in videos or experienced in the protocol office, but it was definitely a lot less formal than what I'd imagined, and a lot looser than what I'd seen in the middle of the day.

Lt. Worf rose from the center seat after Data had given me a brief tour and introduced me to the on-duty crew. From the security station, I watched him report the ship's current heading and give a brief rundown of the status of various systems and departments, ending with, "Astrometrics is currently conducting long-range observation of a pair of comets, and Med-tech is recalibrating the bio-beds in the main Sickbay. Captain Picard checked in at twenty-one hundred hours. He is on course and his expected rendezvous time has not changed."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Data was always so crisp when he was in officer mode. "You are relieved of command."

"I stand relieved, sir."

It was twenty-two hundred hours precisely (according to the readout on the security board) when Data said, "Begin night watch."

The work lights dimmed by about twenty-five percent, a feature my partner explained, that was meant to 'preserve the natural circadian rhythms of the predominantly humanoid crew.' Worf left, but I stayed where I was, watching and listening as Ensign Claymore showed me what he was monitoring, and how the security and tactical stations were different from each other, though there was some overlap.

Eventually, I made my way to the seat next to Data, which he told me was designated for the first officer when there was a full crew at work.

I'd brought a padd with some briefings that Lasso had assigned me to read, as well as a novel, loaded onto it, but I set it beside me and spent the first half of Data's eight-hour watch actively observing. The ship wasn't doing anything fancy – we were in that downtime between active missions that I'd taken to calling 'the boring parts' – but that's exactly the experience I wanted.

What I saw that night was that Data was competent and collected – things I'd never doubted – but also that he knew how to maintain easy camaraderie among his crewmates when he was in charge, engaging in their chatter when it was appropriate, and reigning it in when things got a little _too_ casual.

At zero-two-hundred, Data assigned the next-most-senior officer to take the command chair and availed himself or a break that was just long enough for him to step outside the bridge doors and kiss me goodnight.

"Will you be able to sleep, Zoe?"

"Yes," I said, and meant it. "Thank you for this. It was surprisingly informative."

"I look forward to hearing your impressions over breakfast."

"It's a date," I said. "I'll send a text message when I'm back in our quarters, so you don't worry."

Data merely nodded then bent to kiss me again.

"Love you," I told him. "Good night."

By zero-two-thirty I was tucked up in bed with Spot on the pillow next to me. If, as I fell asleep, I spent some time imagining my partner wearing command red and sporting four solid pips, in control of his own ship, I don't think anyone could blame me.

* * *

 **Notes:** This episode incorporates events from "True Q." I have altered the way Amanda is first introduced to Q, but none of the salient points of the episode. "Flight Pass" is a re-dress of "Ticket to Ride." _It_ refers to the Stephen King novel. The conversation between Zoe and Q refers to the events of "Q Who," "Deja Q," "Hide and Q" and "Q-pid." I hadn't meant to spend so much time with him, but he kind of took over.

The delay in this chapter is a combination of me having a chronic illness that saps away a lot of my energy and of me spending nine days in Mexico with a laptop charger that failed to charge my laptop.

Since it's being posted on her birthday, Happy Birthday to Caroline-in-Sweden (aka **ReLive4Love** ). I owe you a one-shot, sweetie.


	6. In the Shadow of Two Gunmen

**In the Shadow of Two Gunmen**

* * *

 **Stardate 46239.57**

 **(Saturday, 29 March 2369, 10:38 hours, ship's time)**

Three downward strokes of my bow across the strings. Three dark, angry chords. Roughly a meter away, separated from me by two music stands and the space between them, Data lifted his eyebrows in silent commentary.

"What?" I demanded, snapping at him despite the fact that he really wasn't the target of my annoyance.

"I do not believe I have ever heard an 'attack' on the strings that was quite so literal. I am not certain Dvořák meant there to be quite so much… intensity. _"_

I shook my head and rolled my eyes at him, but at the same time, I was trying not to laugh, because laughter would make my black mood dissipate and there was something so _satisfying_ about having a really good angry spell.

"Is it really necessary for you to be right before I've had coffee?"

"You were offered coffee when I arrived home," he pointed out helpfully. "As well, no one has stopped you from replicating your own. I realize that you are anxious for an official confrontation with Ensign Sutter, but the captain was away, and now he is indisposed."

"Can't you and Lt. Worf 'confront' him and tell the captain later?"

Data set down his violin, and moved his music stand aside. Stepping forward, he moved my music stand as well, and then he gently took my cello and bow from my hands and put them in the corner.

"I am certain that your understanding of ship's hierarchy is deep enough that you comprehend why we cannot do as you suggest. Lt. Worf has documented off-ship communications through an encrypted array, and has also pinpointed the times when Ensign Sutter was in the cargo bay and the quartermaster's office without authorization. There is little more evidence to be found; we must simply wait until the captain can accommodate us."

"I know," the words came out as a huffy sigh. "I'm sorry, I just… I want it resolved. I want to know why someone I don't even know would want to hurt me."

"Zoe, it is very likely that Ensign Sutter is unaware of the harm Lore's birds are doing to your psyche. Letting your anger rule your emotional state is not healthy for you, or your instrument. Perhaps we should engage in a more physical activity this morning."

I'd really wanted to spend the morning on music, but Data had a point. "Again with the being-right," I grumbled. "What did you have in mind? I mean, there's physical and there's _physical_." I said the last word in a flirtatious tone.

Data didn't precisely roll his eyes, but he did quirk his brows at me, and tilt his head in a manner meant to be affectionately admonishing. "While the prospect of sexual intimacy with you is always appealing, Dearest, it is already approaching eleven-hundred hours, and we are both due in the auditorium at thirteen hundred to learn the results of Dr. Crusher's 'stealth casting.'"

"The man with super-speed thinks it will take more than two hours to satisfy his girlfriend?" I scoffed, but I was teasing. Mostly. Maybe it was the clock ticking away in the back of my head, reminding me that every day was one day closer to leaving the ship, or maybe it was just a mood, but my libido was suddenly in a state of overdrive.

"You have never expressed a desire for a 'quickie' before," he pointed out in a tone that was just a little bit _too_ reasonable.

"I didn't think it was something you were into," I admitted, though I also added, "I mean, I like slow. I like tender. I love the way you touch me, and the way we talk and cuddle after, but sometimes… Sometimes quick and dirty can be nice, too."

"'Quick and dirty?'"

"Spontaneous. Unmeasured. Raw."

"You want passion." Data's voice had never seemed flatter when talking to me.

"That's _not_ what I said."

"But it is what you meant, is it not? You have expressed desire for a joining that is fast and without constraint."

"I _meant_ a quickie, Data. I meant having sex on the couch like we've done several times before. I wasn't complaining about past performance and I wasn't asking you to be someone you're not. Can you honestly tell me that none of your 'multiple techniques' include having a 'nooner' with your partner?" I was beginning to feel irritated with him, and I didn't want to be. _Breathe, Zoe_ , I reminded myself. _Take a mental step back, and breathe._

He was silent for a long moment. Well, long for him. "I have that programming, yes, but…" He seemed reluctant to continue.

"Data, whatever it is, just tell me."

"The last time I engaged that subroutine, the result was not… optimal."

 _Optimal_. The word cut through me like a finely tuned phaser beam. Optimal was the word he modified for the worst of his personal experiences. _Separation is sub-optimal,_ he had said to me while I was away with Idyllwild the previous summer. It was heart-breaking to hear him use that word with me. So, if he was using that word in relation to sex...

"Tasha." I wasn't entirely certain I'd spoken the dead woman's name aloud until Data reacted.

And react he did, with that subtle-to-anyone-else pulling-back that he did when he was hurt, even as he denied that he _could_ be hurt. With his arms folded across his chest, so that one hand gripped the opposite forearm ( _where had he picked up that gesture?_ ) there was a rarely-seen vulnerability about him. "Yes."

I left my chair, closed the little distance between us, and touched his arm. He accepted the contact so I pulled a little, using both hands and tugging on each of this forearms, so that he'd unfold them, and let me hug him. "I'm not Tasha," I reminded him. "I've never rejected you, I've never attempted to erase one second of our relationship, and I never will."

It was a few seconds before he released his protective stance and let me step closer. It was a little longer before his arms came around me. Once they did, I rested my head against his chest. "I love you," I said. "I'm sorry if my suggestion pushed you out of your comfort zone." He'd brought up that rejection almost a year before, after the first time we'd made love, but it hadn't occurred to me that there was still an open wound there. "I just…"

Data interrupted me, saying only, "I understand." He nuzzled the top of my head. I felt the warmth of his breath on my scalp. When I looked up, he had that tiny smile curving his mouth upward at the corners, the smile that wasn't put on just because such an expression was expected of him, and there seemed to be more depth than usual in his sunshine-yellow eyes.

I lifted my hand to trace that smile with a finger, and he caught the tip in his mouth and sucked gently, then let go. "Data?"

"There is still time," he said, "if you are still inte –"

I cut him off. "Always. I'm _always_ interested."

He touched his lips to mine, his kiss at first gentle, then more demanding, and I opened my mouth to give him access. Our tongues danced until I was nearly breathless. He swung me into his arms and took me to our bedroom, to our bed.

It wasn't the kind of wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am quickie you see in videos, but he _was_ a little bit more dominant than usual that day, and our joining was intense in a way that wasn't better or worse than usual, just different – less talking, more touching and kissing and _licking_ \- focusing on the physical.

It wasn't as tender, as slow, as I'd become accustomed to.

But it was deeply _satisfying_ – even more so than indulging my angry mood had been.

When we were finished, we lingered in bed, so that it really _was_ more of a proper nooner than an actual quickie. Data's fingers roamed across my skin, apparently randomly. Softly, he said, "I cannot give you passion, Zoe, but you will always have my devotion. If it is ever 'not enough,' I will…"

I stopped him with a kiss, then pulled back to tell him, "Don't say it. Don't you dare even think it. Data, _you_ are enough. You are _more_ than enough. Never doubt that." I fixed my gaze on him, daring him to look away.

He didn't.

Instead, he pulled me closer for one more heated kiss, then let me go. "We will be late if we do not leave bed immediately," he informed me in a tone that seemed to hold a hint of reluctance. "You may use the shower first."

I almost suggested that we use it together, but it wasn't really big enough, and it would have been more of a distraction than a time-saver. Instead, I just said, "Thank you." I might have also put a little bit of wiggle in my walk knowing he'd be watching as I padded, naked, to the bathroom.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46244.89**

 **(Monday, 31 March 2369, 09:18 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, we can hold the launch if you want to change your mind and come with us." Dana set her duffle down on the deck so we could share a hug. "It's your last spring break of high school."

We'd all been invited to spend a week on Risa, along with other graduating seniors from a few other ships. When I'd mentioned it to Data, he'd encouraged me to go if I wanted to, but after thinking about it for most of the weekend, I'd realized that I didn't want to.

I was about to assure my best friend for the thousandth time (well, it felt like a thousand) that I was good with my decision to skip the trip, but she added one more wheedling comment. "T'vek will be there."

I knew she meant it as an enticement, but even though Tev and I were still friends, spending time in close proximity was a little awkward. One day, hopefully, we'd grow beyond it, but for the moment, it was just one more reason _not_ to go.

"Give him a hug for me, and tell him I'm good, and don't forget to send me a postcard," I said.

But Dana wasn't quite done. "I don't get it, Zoe," she said. "You love the beach, you've been to Risa and know the area where we'll be, and, I mean, it's the last time we'll all be together just having fun. Even _Serena_ is coming, and she's about to pop!"

I shrugged, not really sure how to explain. "Look, you're my friends, and I love you all, but… the break doesn't even really apply to me, because I'm not in regular classes, and I'm just not in the mood." I gave her my sunniest smile. "I want you all to have an awesome time. Find a hot guy who will dance with you, and make Ethan jealous." She was still dating Ensign Lovejoy, but their romance was showing signs of fizzling out.

Dana laughed. "Right, I'll do that."

"Good, now scoot. Shuttle's waiting."

I waited for her to disappear up the ramp, and then I left the shuttle bay and headed toward the JAG officer's office to check in. Lasso was still my supervisor, but he wanted me to hang out with the lawyers and ombudsmen for the week.

In retrospect, I should have gone on the trip, because the Ferengi arrived two hours later.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46245.63**

 **(Monday, 31 March 2369, 15:47 hours, ship's time)**

 **Mining Facility, Ligos VII**

"Tell me this isn't some kind of sick April Fool's joke?" I grumbled to Geordi. Data, standing not far off from us, was in conversation with a phaser rifle-wielding Ferengi who had identified himself (to call it an introduction would be far too generous) as Sub-commander Krek.

"April Fool's isn't until tomorrow," the engineer pointed out. "Not that the Ferengi are likely to know anything about Earth's calendar."

"There is that," I replied. "How are you and Data even down here? I mean… even with the captain… indisposed, shouldn't he and Lt. Worf have been able to defend the bridge?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? Sometimes even the best-prepared people can still be taken by surprise."

"Evidently."

"How did _you_ manage to be taken with the first group, Zo'?" Geordi asked after a few seconds silence.

"I walked Data to the bridge after he joined me for lunch, and I was on my way back, but still on that level when they… well, it was kind of a swarm."

The noise level in the room – basically a ground based shuttle bay or flitter hangar – increased as another group from the _Enterprise_ arrived, all of them equally confused.

"Commander Data, what's going on?" The voice shouting the question was familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.

Data broke off his conversation, lifting a hand – a hand that still had a pair of magna-cuffs hanging from it. "Everyone please remain calm. Sub-commander Krek and his… colleagues… will be assigning us to dormitories. For now, please comply with their… requests."

I heard the note of distaste in my partner's voice at the word 'colleague,' and I could tell he had plan after plan spinning in his brain, but I was also aware that seeing him cuffed caused a murmur of surprise to move through everyone from the ship, and I wasn't the only person who had registered the perimeter of armed Ferengi surrounding us.

"I am Krek!" The little man with the big lobes stepped forward. "Married couples will be housed together! It is considered cruel to deprive men of the company of their fee-males!" Everything he said felt as though he was shouting, even though he was actually wearing a throat mic, and every sentence was a declaration.

The officers, crew, and civilians milling around began separating themselves into groups of single people and couples, whispering things to one another until the room became a sea of hushed conversation. It was bothering my ears; I couldn't imagine what it was doing to our captors' auditory systems, but I hoped it hurt. _A lot._

"Zoe," Data's quiet voice uttered my name, and I turned away from the crowd to find him – escorted by another armed Ferengi – standing in front of me. "Cren," he said in his normal voice, "this woman is my mate."

"So you say, Ann-droid, but I wish to hear this from the fee-male's own lips!" He was looking at me as though I were a tasty dessert and I really didn't like it. I glanced at Geordi, who gave a slight nod, and then I met Data's eyes, and let their familiar yellow warmth assure me. "Tell me, huu-mon fee-male, do you belong to this… man?" I could tell he was using the term grudgingly.

"Commander Data doesn't lie," I pointed out, as if even some Ferengi should know that. I wasn't keen on claiming to be anyone's property, but on the other hand, I knew being with Data was likely better than being on my own. "I am his mate."

I heard a few comments from the _Enterprise_ contingent, mostly things like _So that's the girl they call 'Mrs. Data?'_ or _Commander Data's got it going_ _ **on**_ _,_ but I kept my focus on the men in front of me.

"Exx-cell-ent! Follow me!"

He grabbed me by the arm, and pulled just enough that I over-balanced and Data reached out to catch me, the cuff still on his wrist swinging against my hip. It was embarrassing, but I managed to bite back my cry of pain.

Cren marched us through a set of double doors, across a breezeway, and into a long hallway of what amounted to cheap, pre-fab, bed-n-head rooms. "You will stay here!" he said, nudging us into one of them. "Further instructions will be issued shortly!"

He left the room, and I heard the door lock behind him.

Data's first act was to remove the cuff from his wrist and stow it under one of the thin pillows on our bunk. "I did not intend to cause you pain," he said. "Are you alright?"

"It wasn't anything. It was more startling than actually painful. It probably won't even bruise." I hesitated for less than a heartbeat then asked. "Data, what's going on. What happened?"

"The Ferengi arrived on the bridge not long after you left me. We were not expecting a direct assault, and Lt. Worf was injured. I attempted to stop them, but did not succeed. A further attempt would have led to loss of life, as they were armed and I was… not."

His honesty made me realize what a horrible position he'd been put in. "It must have been incredibly frustrating for you, not being able to do anything effective."

"It is also frustrating, being here, with no apparent way to effect an escape."

"Where _is_ here, exactly?" I sat on the bunk. "I mean, I know we were in the Ligos system…"

"We are on Ligos VIII," Data informed me. "The Ferengi had already taken control of the science colony here, and are adapting their equipment for mining. I suspect we will all be put to use as miners."

"As in hard hats and canaries?" I had abstract knowledge that certain things – dilithium, for example – were mined, but had no idea of the process.

"Unlikely. The technology here allows for core samples and transporter based drilling. I suspect we will be given shifts with the machinery, as well as being assigned to support positions."

"But you're working on a plan, right?"

He gave me a look that telegraphed how very much he was unimpressed by my question. "I have already considered and discarded seventeen distinct plans. At present, I do not have sufficient data to proceed further, but I am continuously… assessing."

"And in the meantime, the entire population of the ship is now clued in on our relationship. Not that we were ever a secret, but… I feel weird getting special treatment."

"I suspect the only thing 'special' given to couples is shared semi-private housing instead of a bunk in a communal dormitory."

"Is this the part where you tell me I have to step up and set an example?"

"You do not require such a reminder, as you have just demonstrated."

"Am I allowed to ask for a hug?" He answered by sitting down next to me on the bunk, and pulling me close. "Data?" I spoke his name against his neck.

"Dearest?"

"I'm scared."

He nuzzled the top of my head, placing a kiss there. "We will be o-kay," he promised.

I chose to believe him.

 **(=A=)**

It was at that first evening meal that it happened, that I realized I'd changed. It wasn't a physical alteration. I didn't morph into some other kind of being. Instead, it was something far more subtle, and more profound: I realized that when Data had called me his mate so the Ferengi would quarter us together, it had changed the way I was perceived by the crew and civilian compliment of the Enterprise - _especially_ the civilians.

No longer was I just 'Commander Data's girlfriend.' No more was calling me 'Mrs. Data' just an affectionate jest. In their eyes, I had become Data's counterpart. It was a heavy concept, but I wouldn't have time to process it for days.

And to think it began with a simple question.

Data had elected to forego actual food, and had staked out a table in the middle of the room where we'd initially waited to be processed. They'd filled it with cafeteria tables, and I could see little groups here and there, scientists in one corner, weaponless security officers looking very stern in another. I was in line for the replicator when someone nudged me.

"You're her, aren't you? Commander Data's partner?"

I turned to meet the eyes of the woman who had spoken. She was a lieutenant in science blue, and her soft green eyes showed signs that she'd been crying. "I'm Zoe," I said. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Siobhan," she answered. "Siobhan O'Roarke. My specialty is astrometrics." She managed a weak grin. "I think I chased you and your friends out of the lab a couple of years ago."

I laughed softly. "Josh wanted to play Galactic Incursion on the dome screen. I remember. What's wrong – do you prefer Lieutenant O'Roarke, or Siobhan?" I really wasn't sure what she wanted or why she was asking me, but it couldn't hurt to be polite and find out. And it wasn't like there wasn't time, there were still ten people ahead of us in the replicator line.

"Siobhan, please. My daughter, Aisling. She's seven. She was in school when the Ferengi came through, but I haven't seen her. Can you find out if she's alright?"

I couldn't remember seeing _any_ children when I'd been in this room earlier, and I didn't see any now. "The Ferengi haven't harmed anyone," I said. "And I doubt they'd hurt a child, even so, but I'll see what I can learn. Do you see that table over there?" I turned and pointed to where Data was waiting for me, and I noticed he'd been joined by Geordi and Reg and Dana's father. "Find me when you're done eating, okay?"

"Thank you, I'll do that."

She turned away but our conversation seemed to open the door for others to ask questions as well. I wish I'd had answers for them, but most of them - mainly scientists and civilians – seemed just to want reassurance that they weren't alone, and that Data and the other officers present were working on a plan.

It might have been a white lie to promise that they were, but I was certain Data _was_ working on something – or would be once he'd acquired enough information.

Finally, it was my turn to collect food – nothing fancy, but nothing scary either – and join Data and the others, but I hesitated before taking the seat Data had saved for me. "I don't want to interrupt if you're talking shop," I explained when he questioned my reluctance.

"You would not be interrupting regardless of the subject of conversation, Zoe," Data said in a tone that was meant to be reassuring to me, but also to make a point to some of the officers who had gathered at our table – officers whom I hadn't actually met yet.

He was holding my gaze with his own, so I nodded, and took the open spot. Then I asked, "Can anyone confirm whether or not the kids who were in school are okay? They're not here, are they? Someone approached me to see if I knew anything, and I'd hate to leave her worrying."

For a moment, everyone was at a loss, until a lieutenant, j.g. whom I didn't recognize mentioned, "I saw the school children being herd – _gathered_ into a single schoolroom."

"Are you certain of that, Lieutenant?" Data asked, in full-on officer mode.

"Yes, sir. My girlfriend's son is one of those kids."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Rivera," Data said, using the man's name that time.

When Siobhan came toward me about half an hour later, Data allowed me to give her the news that her daughter was safe aboard the _Enterprise_.

Was it weird that being able to give someone good news (well, good-ish) made me feel… proud? Was it wrong that after more people began to approach me, I began to feel completely inadequate?

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46257.14**

 **(Friday, 4 April 2369, 20:35 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise**_

"…Zoe?" The muffled sound of my name penetrated my self-induced bubble.

I was lying in the bathtub, almost entirely submerged in the lavender-scented water. My hair was loose, floating around my head in reddish-brown tendrils. My ears were beneath the surface. My hands and feet had long since gone pruney. My eyes were closed.

"Zoe," Data's voice repeated. "I am certain you can hear me."

I opened my eyes, saw my lover's face hovering above me, and closed them again.

"May I remind you, dearest, that no matter how long you remain submerged, you will not develop gills, fins, or a mermaid's tail? You have been soaking for nearly two hours – one hour, fifty-three minutes, seventeen-point-nine-six seconds, when I walked through the door. I believe it is time to return to dry land."

 _Why did he always have to be right?_

I used my toe to trigger the water release, and sat up in the rapidly draining water. "Hand me my towel?" I requested.

He retrieved one of the fluffy bath sheets I loved, but instead of handing it to me, he extended a hand to help me from the tub, then wrapped it around me. Then he got a second, smaller towel and deftly twisted it into a turban to hold my wet hair. "Come," he said, leading me out of the bathroom. "Sit."

I let him guide me to our bed, but I didn't sit on the edge. Instead I moved to the middle, with my back against the pillows, and I pulled my knees up to my chest, and wrapped my arms around them. "I don't know how to… Everything from the last week is hitting me pretty hard."

"Spending three days working as miners on Ligos VIII was not an ideal situation for any of us, Zoe, but no one was harmed, and we have been home since early this morning. I do not understand why you are having this reaction now."

I remained huddled, but I met his eyes as I said, "It wasn't the mining, Data. I mean, that wasn't exactly _fun_ , but it was the way people looked at me… treated me. Asking me questions as if I had a clue what was going on. 'Do you know if my little girl is safe? Is Commander Data working on a plan?' From the moment you told that Ferengi I was your mate, I stopped being just Zoe and started being your…" I trailed off, not sure what word to use. "I became an extension of you, and I'm not… I know that civilian spouses of ranking officers often take on a lot of unofficial responsibilities – acting as co-hosts for events, bonding with the partners and families of visiting dignitaries – but I'm eighteen years old. I'm barely certain of who _I_ am, never mind representing _you_."

Data had been sitting on the end of the bed, facing me. He got up, then, and retrieved a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats for me. "You will find these more comfortable than damp towels," he said, sitting back down, and leaving the clothes next to me. "Last fall, when we began to speak of marriage as an eventual evolution of our relationship, you referred to needing 'more time in rank.' At the time, I understood you to mean that you required an adjustment period to settle into sharing a home."

I unwrapped the towel on my head, and shook out my hair. It was still wet, and when it touched my back and shoulders, I shivered and reached for the t-shirt – one of Data's uniform tees that was starting to lose its color and shape – and pulled it on over the towel I was wearing. "I _also_ told you I was still learning how to be with an officer."

"I remember," he managed not to make it sound like a reminder that he remembered _everything_. "But I now believe I misunderstood what you meant."

I stood up to pull the towel out from under my t-shirt and step into the sweatpants. "There _was_ a bit of an adjustment when I got home from tour," I confirmed as I took my towels to the bathroom, and then returned, pausing in front of him. "Can we move this conversation to the couch? I'm ready for tea now, I think."

"You have not had an evening meal," Data pointed out. "Perhaps you should consider eating something." It was typical of him to monitor my eating habits. Sometimes it annoyed me, but usually I found it sweet.

"I will if you insist, but I'm not really hungry."

"Make yourself comfortable on the couch," he said. "I will replicate a… light snack for you."

I bent to give him a darting kiss, then ran my hands down his shoulders and the length of his arms to his hands, which I grabbed, and tugged on, pulling him to his feet, though he hesitated at my unfamiliar behavior, and seemed a bit thrown by my shifting mood.

Ten minutes later, we were on the couch, not cuddled but in the same positions we'd often taken during our very first times sharing tea. Then, I had referred to it as a ritual, a term which Data had embraced. It was even more of a ritual two-and-a-half years later, one that was sometimes a source of comfort, and other times a way to ease difficult conversations.

I had my hands wrapped around a mug of my favorite lemon-mint concoction, and there was a plate of sliced apples and sharp cheddar cheese within easy reach, and I dutifully ate about half of what was there before we resumed our conversation.

"You handled yourself most ably while were on Ligos VIII," Data began, at the same time that I spoke.

"I guess things got a little too real for me this week."

We both stopped, realizing that overlapping sentences would only be confusing, and even though the overall mood was still serious, I had to chuckle. We were both so eager to fix everything. It was another way we were alike, I supposed.

"May I speak first?" Data asked. After my confirming nod, he continued. "I did not realize that you were unsettled by the way members of the _Enterprise_ crew were treating you, while we were off the ship. If I had recognized any discomfort beyond that of being where you did not wish to be, I would have addressed it. As I said, you handled everything most ably. You were poised and gracious, and it is my assessment that you helped to ease the worries of many people."

I reached out to touch his hand, and he immediately turned his hand in mine and curled his fingers around my palm. "I'm glad you think so," I told him. "But inside I was frightened about what was happening, and about the answers I was giving. What if I'd said the wrong thing? I felt unprepared and uncomfortable, and our relationship – the fact of it, the way people see us – got too _real_."

"I see," he said. "Then… you believe our relationship was _not_ real until this week?"

"NO!" I didn't quite shout it. "I don't mean… God, I love you, but sometimes I feel like I'll never be ready to be the partner you need."

"You are already the partner I need, Zoe. You are also the partner I _want_ ," he countered. "I do not understand how our relationship could be any more or less _real_ than it has always been."

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to still my thoughts enough to express them. I could see from the slight tightening around Data's eyes, and feel in the way he clutched my hand, that I had distressed him.

"We've talked about the way we change personas, depending on the people or situations we're facing. I've seen you in officer-mode more than once – "

"You told me you thought I was 'hot' - "

I grinned. "I do. It is. When you're all take-charge guy, it's one of the most reassuring things I can think of, but it's also a little bit intimidating. And… usually your authority is - it's almost like you downplay your rank, so people don't perceive you as a threat. Captain Picard's got the weight of decades of service. Will Riker's more casual. He's gregarious until he _has_ to be something stronger. But you… you wear your authority with quiet strength and subtle dignity. The thing is, though, even though you're so low key about it, there's a clear difference between Data the officer, and Data, my boyfriend who sometimes lets his vulnerability show."

"I did not realize you had analyzed me in such detail."

"Like you haven't done the same to me?" The subtle change in his facial features told me I was correct. "I know how to _be_ around Boyfriend-Data, who is warm and accessible. You were Boyfriend-Data most of the time in San Francisco, and about half the time on Terlina. You are that softer, cuddlier version of you most of the time when we're at home."

"No one has ever described me as 'cuddly,'" he observed.

"That's probably because no one else has seen you shirtless and frowsy in pajama bottoms, with your hair mussed because you spent the night with your sleeping lover in your arms." I didn't mean to snark at him, really.

"Forgive me, Zoe. Please continue."

I nodded. Then I sipped some of my tea. After that, I continued. "So, the whole time on Ligos VIII you were the ranking officer present, and everyone heard you use the word _mate_ , and once you did, it didn't matter that I'm only eighteen, or that we're not actually married. I was your other half.

"I knew – I _know_ – intellectually I mean – that officers' partners have certain things expected of them, certain unofficial responsibilities. I understand that as second officer you're pretty visible, and that there will be situations when I'll have to take on that role. I even understand that there will be more and more situations like this, where I have to be an example, or step up and be involved in things, especially as your career progresses. I mean, I can't imagine you want to be second officer forever? I just thought – I just assumed – "

" - that you would have the 'more time in rank' we discussed earlier." Data finished the thought for me.

I wrinkled my nose as I said, "Well, yeah. Data… what if I can't do this? What if I embarrass you, or do something to hold you back? What if…?"

He was still holding my hand, but the tightness around his eyes had lessened considerably. "What if you bring balance to the equation?"

"Data?"

"I am an android; you are human. I am a Starfleet officer; you are a civilian."

"You forgot 'I am male; you are female,'" I teased.

He gave me a look and continued his thought, "Your presence at my side these past few days made people more comfortable approaching me, and your insight has already helped to 'soften' my approach to certain situations. You may not feel 'ready' for the role you were thrust into on Ligos VIII, but I am confident that you are capable of fulfilling it, should you wish to."

"' _Wish_ to?'"

"The recent events were unplanned, and unwelcome. We had few choices, and I made what I believed was the best choice for both of us."

"'Separation is sub-optimal,'" I quoted him.

"Indeed. As future situations arise, if you do not wish to be involved, I would never require it."

"Oh, and the optics of that would _so_ favorable."

"I have little interest in optics, Zoe. I have a great deal of interest in allowing you to find your own way in this."

"I wouldn't mind a little guidance."

"Then I will point out that you are still assigned to the protocol officer as his intern. Perhaps there are resources that you have not yet discovered."

"Great," I muttered, but I was half-teasing. "Now my boyfriend is giving me _homework_."

"Not at all, Zoe. Your _partner_ is recognizing that you respond best when challenged to solve your own problems."

"And the second officer of the ship? What does he say?"

Data took a beat to recognize what I was really asking. " _If_ he were here," he began, teasing me just a little. "He would recommend that you ask Lt. Prerr about the history of officers' spouses in Starfleet and that you consider asking him about the other resources your boyfriend suggested. "

"Okay, that's fair. But in the meantime, since the second officer _isn't_ here, do you think my affectionate, kind, doting boyfriend could fetch a comb and help de-tangle my hair?"

"I am certain he would be pleased to do so."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46267.87**

 **(Tuesday, 8 April 2369, 18:35 hours, ship's time)**

Tuesday evening, I arrived home to hear the comm-unit signaling an incoming call, which I answered even before I was seated in Data's chair.

 _"_ _There_ _you are, daughter-of-mine. I was starting to believe you were a figment of my imagination. You don't call; you don't write… is everything alright?"_

I had to chuckle. My mother's melodrama was a bit – one I'd have likely done if I'd been making the call – but it _had_ been a while since we'd had a real-time conversation. "I write!" I protested. "I sent a letter last week."

 _"You look tired."_

"Do I? Things have been… there were Ferengi, and ninety-percent of the crew was conscripted to be miners, but it only lasted a few days. By the time Data and Geordi came up with an escape plan, the captain and Will had already taken back control of the ship."

 _"You were on the planet?"_

"I was. And you'll be pleased to know that if this acting thing doesn't work out, I'm now 'quite proficient with a laser drill.'" I was quoting Data on those last few words, and she smiled, hearing me imitate his inflection.

 _"Well, that's a relief,"_ she teased. But she seemed to be studying my image, because her tone grew more serious and she asked. _"Really, Zoe… I can tell there's something wrong. Talk to me?"_

"It's stupid," I told her. "I mean… on the planet the Ferengi were separating couples from single people. Something about it being considered cruel to deprive men of female companionship. Incidentally, I don't know how they handled Lt. Hodges and his husband. I'll have to ask Lasso about Ferengi social norms."

 _"Zoe…"_

She said it in much the same exasperated tone in which I sometimes uttered my partner's name. "Sorry. Anyway, Data told the one in charge – Krek – that I was his mate so we'd be quartered together, and… and it wasn't like our relationship was ever a secret, but it's also – I mean we don't go around canoodling in turbo-lifts, you know?"

 _"I know. Go on?"_

"The crew heard… and they started treating me differently. Like… like I was…"

 _"As if you were Data's wife?"_ Mom had always been amazing at guessing games.

"Yeah, something like that. No…. exactly that."

 _"And it made you uncomfortable?"_

"It didn't really hit me until we were home… and it's not that… I mean we've been talking about marriage 'someday,' but suddenly 'someday' started to feel a little too close, and I freaked out a bit, and…"

 _"Did you talk to Data about it?"_

"Did I talk…? Oh, there was talking. There was a lot of talking, and I think he understands what I was feeling – he kept insisting I handled myself 'most ably' – but I feel like there's something unresolved. And I'm… Mom, I'm eighteen. Dancing with him at a ship's function, I'm equipped to do, but being involved in his work, even tangentially, isn't something I'm ready for, and I'm not explaining this right."

I took a breath and started over. "Intellectually, I know that when you marry an officer you marry the whole fleet. I saw it with you and Dad, but…"

 _"But I'm a scientist, not a line officer, and Data may very well command his own ship one day."_ My mother's words were matter-of-fact, but her tone was gentle.

"Yeah."

 _"Zoe, you always distanced yourself from anything Starfleet related when you were growing up – "_

" – because Starfleet kept taking my mother away from me – "

 _" – and I understand it, but you're at a point now where you have to do some soul-searching. I'm certain Data doesn't expect you to make being a fleet spouse your entire life..."_

"No, of course he doesn't." I was irritated by the very notion.

 _"But you need to make peace with the fact that this is part of the deal, and if you can't do that, you need to tell Data before the two of you make irrevocable decisions."_

"You say that as though you expect him to propose to me tomorrow," I accused.

Mom laughed. _"Oh, I hope not. It_ _is_ _a little too soon."_

"A _little_? Aren't you supposed to be reminding me that no one should get married before they've finished their education, traveled, had a career…?"

 _"Would it matter if I did? Zoe, you and Data aren't a typical couple, and the standard guidelines don't apply. Would I prefer it if you wait until you're done with college? Of course. But the two of you have to choose your own path. I've seen his devotion to you. I've seen your deep love for him. Time and patience will give you the experience and confidence you're lacking now."_

"I don't want to disappoint him."

 _"Oh, sweetie. I don't think there's anything you can do that would disappoint Data, as long as you're honest with him."_

"I'm trying to be… but it's difficult, when half the time I'm not sure I'm being honest with myself."

 _"So, tell him that. He may not be any more experienced than you are when it comes to romantic relationships, but he has decades of experience navigating Starfleet culture – much more than he probably realizes - and in some ways his rank will protect you both. It gives you some shelter while you figure things out."_

"Is that what you'd tell a cadet asking you for advice?"

 _"Hell no! I'd tell a cadet they had no business dating an officer. But you're not a cadet, you're the great and powerful Zoificus, and I suspect you do know what you want."_

"I want Data."

My mother arched a brow, _"Dirty…"_ she teased.

" _Mom!_ " That exasperated tone ran in the family. "I meant, I want a _life_ with Data. I want… I want to be there when he gets promotions, and I want to come home to him after a play, and I want… someday in the future – far, _far_ , in the future – I can see us with a family."

My mother's expression had softened into something like tender nostalgia. I half-expected a gushy-Mom sentence, but instead she said, _"Honey, if you want all those things, you need to accept that Data, the officer, and Data, your partner, are aspects of the whole, and not the separate entities you've carved out in your head."_

"Yeah," I answered.

 _"Yeah,"_ she repeated. Then she seemed to backtrack. _"Wait. Why were you on the ship? I thought you and your friends were going to Risa?"_

"I chose not to go."

 _"Chose?"_ She seemed dubious.

"Partying on Risa didn't really sound all that appealing, and I had obligations here that my friends didn't."

 _"Data didn't – "_

"Honestly, Mom. He's not my boss or my keeper. Actually, he encouraged me _to_ go. I didn't want to."

The look on her face was telling. _"Sounds like your heart knows more than your head right now, kiddo."_

"I guess my head has some catching up to do." I sighed, and then I shifted slightly in the chair. "So, how are _you_? How's Ed? Do you still love teaching?"

Mom laughed. _"Graceful segue, sweetie."_

We talked for another half an hour or so, about her life in San Francisco, her teaching, what it was like being on the Academy campus again after so many years off-world. It was a good talk, and it left me feeling much more settled than I had been.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46272.26**

 **(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 09:02 hours, ship's time)**

I nearly spit out the coffee I'd just sipped; instead, I swallowed it in an air-filled gulp, before asking, incredulously, "You're going to do _what_?"

The _Enterprise_ was in orbit around a really unappealing planet – a gas giant called Deinonychus VII – waiting to rendezvous with the _Biko,_ a cargo ship, but she'd been delayed so we were here with nothing to do but wait, and that meant skeleton crews on the bridge and all the command staff got to indulge in some downtime.

I'd been hoping for serious music time with Data. A few weeks before, I'd found a file full of sheet music I'd brought home from the summer I'd spent at Suzuki, I'd we'd been playing through them for the last little while. Something about the work, specifically one of the cello concerti, had struck a chord with my partner, and he'd been spending significant amounts of time analyzing everything the composer had ever written.

I didn't mind it so much, except he'd taken to humming it at me while I was trying to sleep. On one level, it was sort of adorable seeing him so fascinated by something that he wasn't keeping it inside his own head, but on another…

"Geordi and I are going to attempt to use my neural net as a backup for the ship's essential systems." His statement brought me back to the present.

"And you do this, how?" I asked, banishing all thoughts of music and focusing on the conversation at hand.

"We will be inserting two optical cables into my cranial unit and then creating an interlink between myself and the ship's computer."

"Wait, you're going to plug something new into your head?"

"It is not new, Zoe. In fact, the procedure is not dissimilar from the way I use an optical cable to connect to my workstation here in our quarters when I wish to work in bed."

"Except your workstation doesn't have anything close to the power of the whole ship." I had a bad feeling about this plan. "Does it?"

"It does not."

"What happens if there's a feedback loop and you get fried?"

"Then my neural net would likely suffer cascade failure if key systems could not be rerouted."

Most of the time, Data's calm, rational delivery was soothing to me. Just then, it was infuriating. The hand that wasn't wrapped around a coffee mug balled into a fist, but I refrained from actually punching anything. "Oh, is that all? And what's the likelihood that something will go wrong? I mean you have such a great track record when it comes to sticking things into your head."

"I am sorry that you disapprove of this project, but Commander LaForge and I feel it is a concept that has merit, and as there is nothing else pressing that either of us – "

It was never good when he used Geordi's rank. It meant he was in full-on officer mode.

"Do I get a say?"

"Zoe?"

"You're sitting here telling me about a planned project that you had to know would alarm me. So, are you telling me just so I'll know where to find the body when you melt your circuits into goo, or are you telling me because you want my opinion?"

A flicker of something akin to guilt crossed Data's features and disappeared. "It is… the former," he admitted. "Although, I believe you are aware that the odds of anything 'melting my circuits into goo' are extremely low." He softened his tone a little, making it more personal, and less professional. "I am sorry that you do not support what Geordi and I wish to try, but if the captain agrees, we will be performing the experiment later this morning."

It wasn't worth picking a fight with him. I let out a long breath. "Okay, fine. Thank you for telling me, at least. You'll let me know when you're finished?"

"If you wish, you may come to engineering and observe the process."

"Lasso wants me to sit in on the video conference with State. He says it's never too early to start honing the skills necessary to navigate groups of diplomats and bureaucrats."

"I am certain he would excuse you, if – " Data began.

I cut him off, "I'm sure he would, too, but Ambassador Uhura is supposed to be part of this comm and I don't want to miss that."

"Very well," he responded, retreating (at least, it felt like a retreat) into his officer persona. "I will inform you when we have completed our tests."

He began to rise from the table, but I darted out my hand to grab his. "Data, wait." He halted his movements. "Please be safe?" I implored.

"All safety precautions will be followed," he assured me.

I closed my eyes and nodded, then opened them, and managed to smile at him. "Are we still having date night tonight?"

"Of course, Zoe. Is there a particular activity you have in mind?"

My smile was real that time. "Actually," I began, "I was thinking we could bring our instruments to one of the observation lounges and play some Dvořák."

"An excellent idea. I will see you this evening." He did get up then, but so did I meeting him for a kiss. He lingered for a moment, twisting one of the loose strands of my hair between his fingers. "Please do not worry; everything will be fine."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46272.88**

 **(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 14:26 hours, ship's time)**

After the video conference, Lasso had nothing else for me to do, so he ordered me to take the afternoon off. My friends were in class, Data was tied up in engineering, and I wasn't in the mood for Ten-Forward, so I went to the one place that was always welcoming: the arboretum.

I wasn't looking for Keiko, specifically, but when I turned a corner and found her planting bulbs, I couldn't resist asking, "Need a hand?"

"Actually, this is the last set. They're from Relva VII, and they've been in cryo for the last five years. If I'm lucky, I'll be here to see them come up."

"Lucky?" I wasn't sure what she meant.

"Come sit with me?"

"Sure."

I followed Keiko, not to one of the benches that were placed on the paths that wandered through the space, but under a fairly sturdy tree, on incredibly soft grass. "This is my favorite spot," she said. "The tree and the grass are from Earth, but all the flowers in this section are from different worlds. Somehow, though, they all harmonize."

I tried to see the space through her expert eyes, but all I could tell was that, "It's very relaxing. I like it."

"I'm going to miss it. I've never had this much space to work with. Most botanists don't, and they don't even have a position for me on Deep Space Nine."

"You're leaving the Enterprise?" I asked.

"Miles has been offered a promotion – Chief of Operations on the space station – and we've pretty much decided to take it. The new commander there doesn't mind that he's non-commissioned; just cares about his talent."

"That's wonderful for him, but I'll miss you. We'll miss you."

"You'll just have to come visit. Molly loves it when you come over."

"We'll have to do dinner again before you go." I took a beat. "When are you going?"

Keiko's expression shifted slightly. "We have to report by the end of next month… I don't know how we'll get everything packed and ready for transfer in time."

"Well, if it will help, Data and I would be glad to babysit Molly for a few evenings, so you can focus."

Her answering smile was so grateful. "Thank you, Zoe. That would help a lot."

A shadow fell over us, and I looked up to see my partner standing there. "Are your ears burning?" I asked him, teasing. "I just volunteered us to babysit Molly so Keiko and Miles could have some kid-free packing nights. Hope you don't mind?"

"Not at all," Data answered. "We're glad to hep y'all out." The last few words were uttered in a sort of hick accent of the type you typically only heard on cheesy cowboy vids.

Keiko and I shared a look as we both got to our feet. "Which of us were you looking for?" I asked. It wasn't unlike Data to seek the botanist out for professional advice, or, I'd learned over time, relationship pointers when he and I weren't communicating well.

"I came to find you, little darlin'," he responded, again with that accent popping up on the last two words. "Would you mind comin' along with me?"

"Sure," I said. "Comm me," I reminded Keiko, and then I slipped my hand into Data's and we walked back to the doors that would return us to the corridor. "Okay," I asked him. "What's with the accent?"

"I do not recall employing an accent," he responded. "That is actually why I came to find you."

I waited until we were alone in the turbo-lift before I dropped his hand and turned to face him. "There was a glitch, wasn't there? You stuck something in your head and something went wrong."

"As far as we can tell, it is only a minor problem. Some of my personal files have been comingled with the ship's library, recreation, and replicator systems. For example, several of the padds containing the script for Something for Breakfast have been replaced with my poetry." He took a beat, then added, "And I am apparently 'talking like a cowboy' with no memory or record of having done so."

"Oh, that's not good."

"No, ma'am it ain't good."

"Data!"

"Zoe?" He looked as confused as I'd ever seen him.

"You really don't know you're doing this? You just called me 'ma'am,' and then you used the word 'ain't.'" I imitated his accent to make a point.

"Intriguing," he breathed. "Not only am I unaware of using an accent, but I have apparently also used a verbal contraction."

"Yes, well, before you turn completely into Cowboy Bob, can you tell me why you were looking for me? I'm guessing it's not so we can head to the holodeck and ride the range?"

"No," he said. "It is not."

The turbo-lift opened and we stepped onto the engineering deck, where his lab was. I hadn't been paying attention when he'd specified our destination. "We're going to your lab?"

"Yes," he answered as we walked down the hall, and entered the room that I sometimes thought of as his bat-cave. "I am about to perform a self-diagnostic, and I will be unavailable for quite a spell."

The accent thing was getting old fast, but I ignored it and asked. "Because of the glitches?"

"Yes. I wished to inform you 'in person' of what was happening. I am aware you dislike 'waiting, wondering, and worrying.'"

I nodded. "I hate the waiting part," I agreed. "You're going to be okay, right? Do you want me to stay?"

He ducked his head to brush a kiss across my lips. "Ain't no need for that darlin'. I'll be right as rain before you know it."

I wasn't entirely certain of that, but I wrapped my arms around him, and claimed another, deeper kiss. "Let me know when you're done?"

"I will certainly do so." I started to pull away, but he surprised me with a slap to my buttocks – not at full strength, but enough that I'd be feeling it for a few minutes - and the words, "Git along, now, filly. I'll be home in time fer supper."

I was too shocked to be mad at him, but I was definitely going to tease him about it later. Possibly forever

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46273.08**

 **(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 16:11 hours, ship's time)**

There was no way I was going to do anything productive while I waited to hear from Data, so when he sent me away from his lab, I returned to our quarters to cuddle Spot and watch a vid.

I should have known it was a bad idea. After all, I'd heard Data tell me there were glitches in the library and recreation systems. But somehow, I didn't connect that with the entertainment video, and the computer didn't give me any reason to expect that I wouldn't be seeing the movie I'd picked, a romantic drama about a Vulcan boy and Terran girl who were both competing in a piano festival, and ended up falling for each other.

I'd seen it many times before – it was one of my favorite 'comfort' vids – so I thought nothing about going to the bathroom while the opening credits rolled and the first few scenes played. I was a little confused when I was done, and thought I heard Data and someone else talking, but I knew there was no way he'd be finished with his diagnostic that quickly; the fastest version took an hour.

I returned to the living area of our quarters and froze, because on the screen was Data's image, and the words he was speaking sounded like a letter.

 _Recently, however, I have learned that there is a great deal of difference between hosting poker night when one has a child who has a room of their own in which they may spend their time, and hosting it when one shares their quarters with a romantic partner who is not part of the circle of players._

 _Prior to Zoe moving in with me, the nights when it was my turn to host the game were generally disrupted only by the presence of my cat, Spot, and her enthusiasm for lying in the middle of the poker table, heedless of any admonishments to 'get down' or 'go to bed.' (My friends and colleagues frequently remind me that 'if I had wanted a pet that would listen to me, I should have acquired a dog.')_

"Computer, hold playback. Identify."

The video paused, but the computer was less than helpful, simply spitting out the name of the video I'd actually requested.

"Replay from beginning," I ordered and the video restarted.

 _Dear Commander Maddox:_

 _First, let me congratulate you on the successful creation of a working, if rudimentary, prototype of a positronic network. I have reviewed the material you sent, and am curious about your decision to keep your creation in a virtual environment, rather than constructing a 'body' of some type._

Commander Maddox. I knew that name. He was the man who had wanted to take Data apart a few years before. I'd never met him – hadn't even known Data when he'd had to go to court to defend his personhood – but everyone knew the story. It was part of _Enterprise_ lore.

I let the letter play to the end.

 _Is it possible that I am 'fooling myself' into believing that our relationship is sustainable, when I cannot give my lover the emotional responses she professes not to need, but undoubtedly deserves?_

 _I do not expect you to provide these answers. I believe that Counselor Troi and Zoe, herself, are correct that I must find them within myself. I can only trust that when Zoe assures me she does not find me lacking, or perceive anything 'missing' from our relationship, she is speaking the truth._

I sat on the couch staring at the screen. Data was exchanging regular mail with the man who wanted to dissect him like some cybernetic lab rat? Data was talking to this guy about our relationship? Data found more intimacy in pillow talk than sex, but didn't want to give up the latter?

I should have been livid.

I should have felt betrayed.

I should have been wondering if our relationship had been some kind of science experiment for the past two years.

But even though I wasn't thrilled that he was sharing details of our relationship – information about my rape – with a man who I wouldn't trust to care for a bottle of water, there was a part of me that understood it.

"Computer, replay from beginning."

I watched Data's letter again, really paying attention, and I was struck with the urge to know more. What _else_ had he written to Maddox? What had Maddox written back?

 _Commander Maddox, is it possible that no matter how much growth I have achieved, I am still ill-prepared to provide the woman I care for with the support she requires?_

Data, it seemed, had a lot of the same questions I had: _Can we maintain our relationship? Am I enough?_

"Computer, pause playback." The image of my lover's face froze. I left the couch, stretched, and moved through the space I shared with Data, seeing it with new eyes: My cello in the corner near the shelf where his violin was kept. A favorite sweatshirt of mine on the coat tree with his Sherlock Holmes garb. The vase of sunflowers on the dining table – Data always made sure there were fresh flowers there.

I walked into our bedroom, saw the optical cable coiled neatly on his side of the bed, and the water glass I hadn't remembered to recycle. I saw his folded pajamas, the top I usually wore, the bottoms he did, on our perfectly made bed. Data was the one who did that, part of his routine, and I let him. _Was I taking him for granted?_

I walked into the bathroom next. His bathrobe and mine, brushing up against each other on hooks. In the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, I knew, were our toothbrushes, side by side in a ceramic holder I'd picked up on tour. It was shaped like a cat, and painted orange like Spot, and it had made me laugh.

 _"Data brushes his teeth?" Dana had asked me once, not long after my music lessons had been moved to his quarters. "Data has toilet paper in his bathroom?"_

 _"Of course he does," I'd answered her then, annoyed by the questions._

I splashed water on my face, and then sat down on the edge of the bathtub. _My_ bathtub. The one Data had installed as a birthday present for me because he knew I loved bubble baths. The one where, just a few days earlier, I'd been quietly freaking out over the way our relationship was now being perceived.

He'd had a bathtub put into the master bath in the house on Terlina III, also. For _me_.

And he worried he wasn't giving _enough_? Couldn't _**be**_ _enough_?

My mother's words came ringing back to me, almost too loud inside my head: _I've seen his devotion to you,_ she had said Later, she'd chided me for compartmentalizing. _You need to accept that Data, the officer, and Data, your partner, are aspects of the whole, and not the separate entities you've carved out in your head."_

For the better part of a week, I'd been feeling like everything between Data and me was suddenly heavier – more _real_ , and my reaction had confused him.

 _I do not understand how our relationship could be any more or less_ _real_ _than it has always been,_ he'd said, but I hadn't really understood what he'd meant, just as he had misinterpreted things I'd said in San Francisco the previous fall.

I went back to the living room, and had the computer play the letter to the end. Then I shut down the system, and went to take a shower.

 **(=A=)**

When Data came home a little after nineteen hundred hours, I had candles burning on both the dining table and the coffee table (the coffee table he'd acquired at my request, back when I really had been just his student… when we were still forming a friendship, let alone anything more), and my mother's zucchini casserole ready in stasis, and Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor (with Jacqueline du Pré as the soloist) cued on the entertainment system, which had been working correctly for about an hour.

I'd put on my favorite little black dress – one I hadn't worn since Idyllwild's last cast party, done my hair in soft waves, and was wearing the tennis bracelet he'd given me for Valentine's Day and the pearls he'd presented to me almost a year before, as I was leaving the ship to go to Idyllwild.

Dressing up wasn't about seduction. Data was quite literally not wired that way. I guess, it was a visible representation of the choice I'd made, the choice my mother had helped me see I'd _already_ made.

"Zoe, I am… home."

I was curled up on the couch, reading a novel, the backlit screen the only illumination in the room, aside from the candles. I smiled up at him. "No more Cowboy Bob?" I asked, making sure my words were infused with gentle amusement.

"It was necessary for Geordi to deactivate me, in order to purge the corrupted files, but I am 'back to normal' now." He took in the way I'd set the table, the bottle of wine breathing in front of me on the coffee table. "Are we celebrating some occasion with which I am unfamiliar?"

"Not exactly. Come sit with me?"

He did so, lifting his arm to settle it around my shoulders. "Welcome home," I said, and kissed him lightly. "And welcome to date night two-point-oh."

I heard his confusion in his voice. "I do not understand."

"I tried to watch a video earlier."

"When the recreational and library systems were… malfunctioning?"

"Yes. Only instead of a video, I was treated to a piece of your personal correspondence." I'd spent time practicing the carefully neutral tone I used, and managed to maintain it as I said, "I was a little upset to learn that you'd been giving the intimate details of our relationship to a man who wants to take you apart."

I couldn't see his eyes flickering, but I was certain they were. "You found my most recent letter to Commander Maddox."

"I did."

"And you are not angry?" He'd shifted from confusion to trepidation.

"I _was_ ," I admitted. "I was angry, and hurt, and confused, and I'm not sure I'm okay with some of what you've shared with him… but I had time to think it through before you got home, and I realized that I've been unfair to you."

"Unfair?"

I shifted slightly so that my body was still resting against his, but I could turn my head and see his face. "Yeah. Unfair. See, I've been so focused on how I feel – worrying we moved too far, too fast; being concerned I couldn't be an equal partner to you; feeling uncertain about the role I'm eventually be expected to play – that I forgot that you're going through all the same things, too. You might not have the emotional context, and I know now that your concerns are not quite the same as mine, but it's still… it's still an adjustment. It's still something you're learning as you go, just like I am."

"There are times I have been uncertain I am doing the 'right thing' with regard to our relationship," Data admitted. "Like you, there are limited people from whom I can seek advice. Geordi is my best friend, but he has never had a successful long-term relationship."

I was tallying something in my head, so there was a delay before I responded. "You're the only one, aren't you? In the command staff, you're the only one in a stable romantic relationship, and your only friends who are even a couple are Keiko and Miles."

" _Our_ only friends," he corrected, putting a slight emphasis on the first word.

"Sorry," I said, " _our_ only friends who are a couple are leaving in a month." I saw his expression shift again. "Which you knew."

"It was my recommendation that 'sealed the deal' for the chief."

"Of course it was." I leaned forward to pour the wine into glasses. We didn't often drink at home, but I'd felt like it added a grace note to the evening. "Here."

Data took the glass I offered, glancing at it and then back at me. "Zoe?"

"Date night two-point-oh comes with the occasional adult beverage," I teased lightly. "It's nothing fancy. Replicated California chardonnay. The third time through your letter, I realized how lucky I am. I have so many people helping me when I get nervous or scared or feel like I really am too young for you. I mean, I have you, obviously, but also two parents, two step-parents, Tara and Oberlyne, my grandparents… And I didn't realize, I didn't realize until today that while your relationship with your colleagues includes social interaction, they're not really _friends_ the same way, except for Geordi."

His eyebrows lifted the way they often did when he was responding to something. It always amazed me how expressive he truly was. "One of the reasons I included details of my relationship with you in my letters to Commander Maddox is that, despite the fact that his methods are extreme and his bias against my personhood is… distasteful… he is uniquely qualified to… comprehend my psyche."

"Someday," I vowed, "that distinction will be mine."

"Of that, Zoe, I am certain."

I stretched up to kiss his cheek, then sat up properly, and gestured to him with my glass. "To us, Data."

I know he saw the way my brow quirked as I made the toast, because he answered it with the slightest upward curve of his lips. "To us, Zoe."

The sound of the glasses clinking against each other reminded me that dinner was still in stasis, and I pulled away from Data. "I made casserole," I told him, "and I know you're not, but serious conversation makes me hungry. Would you please bring the glasses to the table?"

"Of course."

We relocated to our dining table, and I served our meal.

"So," I said between bites of casserole and sips of wine, "Date night two-point-oh comes with your choice of activities."

"You no longer wish to play Dvořák in an observation lounge?" Data asked.

"We could. But, I'm not really dressed for playing cello, but if that's really what you want to do, I can change. Alternatively, Will's jazz ensemble is playing in Ten-Forward, and their set starts at twenty-one hundred hours, and we haven't done anything social in a while."

"We have also not played music together as often as we used to," he pointed out.

"No, we haven't." The quartet was on hiatus, and I was no longer _studying_ music, so weekly practice sessions weren't necessary. "I miss that time and I think we should find a way to return to it, but it doesn't necessarily have to be tonight."

"I did promise Commander Riker I would attend his next concert," Data reminded me. "He suggested I bring my oboe."

"I haven't heard you play anything but strings since… since we started dating. I don't mind being your groupie tonight. Play your cards right, you'll even get seduced afterward," I was flirting with him just for the fun of it.

"That is an offer I cannot refuse." Data rose to his feet. "If you do not mind clearing away the remains of our dinner, I will go and change."

"You don't have to," I pointed out.

"I am aware. However, you dressed up for our date night, and I would be remiss if I did not do the same." He paused, then tilted his head in the way that meant he was about to make a point. "Besides, I believe my 'chances will be better' if I am wearing red. My girlfriend believes I look incredibly sexy in that color."

My laughter filled our quarters.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46273.80**

 **(Thursday, 10 April 2369, 21:31 hours, ship's time)**

Ten-Forward was jumping, but Deanna had saved seats at her table for us. I heard a few people commenting about 'Mrs. Data,' as my partner guided me to our chairs with a hand on my back, but I chose to smile and find it charming.

The counselor hugged me impulsively as I sat down next to her. "Something's changed in you," she whispered in my ear, "Lunch on Monday?" As I nodded a confirmation, she said in a louder voice, "Well, you two look lovely. Data, you should wear red more."

"Mmm, he should; shouldn't he," I agreed, leering openly at the man I loved.

"It would be illogical to argue with either of you," Data said, but I could tell there was a tiny part of him that was pleased by the positive attention. A server came to take our drink orders, and Data asked if I wanted a martini, which was a standing joke between us.

"Actually," I said. "I do. Dirty."

Data gave me a look but ordered a second 'dirty martini' for himself, and we settled back to listen to the music. I leaned closer to him, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "We should do more of this," I whispered in his ear.

"As you wish," he whispered back.

He was invited to join the group during the second set, and I encouraged him to do so.

I'd heard Data play the oboe before, but only classical music. Hearing him - _watching_ him – play more contemporary stuff was educational. He was still completely himself – slightly stiffer than everyone else in the group, and more faithful to the meter of any given piece than jazz musicians typically are – but there was something in the way his eyes met mine, as if he were playing just for me, and something else in the way his long fingers danced on the keys that was completely enthralling.

"You're in lust," Deanna teased, keeping her voice low. _Her_ focus, I noticed, never left Commander Riker.

"Mmhmm," I responded. "Completely and totally."

She laughed again, and said, "He's lucky to have you."

Another time, I would have demurred and said that I was the one who was lucky. That night, I just smiled and said, "We're both lucky."

 **(=A=)**

Even though I hadn't been the one performing, when Data and I left Ten-Forward I was just as wired as if I had. "You were amazing tonight," I told my partner, once we were back at home. "You were on fire."

"Thank you, Zoe. I am glad you enjoyed yourself."

"Didn't you?"

"It is stimulating to play music that does not follow a rigid structure, but I am never certain that I am 'getting it right.'"

"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about," I said. "And even if you did, jazz is pretty forgiving."

"And you, Zoe? Are you forgiving?"

"Data?"

"You said earlier that you were unsure whether or not you were 'okay' with some of the things in my letter to Commander Maddox."

"Oh. That." I sat on the end of our bed and pulled off the heels I'd been wearing. "I'm not thrilled with some of what you revealed, and I don't trust him, but, there's nothing to forgive, Data, really. I'm pretty detailed with Tara and Oberlyne."

"If it would ease your concerns, I will provide you a transcript of all of our correspondence since you and I became… involved."

I shook my head. "No, Data. You're allowed to have a confidante who isn't me and isn't part of your circle of friends here. We all need an outside perspective from time to time." Having removed my stockings while we talked, I stood up and presented my back to him. "Could you unzip me, please?"

His hands went immediately to the zipper of my dress, but he observed, "I will never comprehend why humanoid women wear clothing with such inconveniently placed fasteners."

I laughed and turned to face him. "Because we love the way our partners react when we look pretty, and because it's fun to have them help us remove such clothing."

"Ah, then this would be the seduction part of the evening?"

I let the dress drop to the floor and stepped out of it, standing in front of him in my black lace bra and panties. "Well, you know it drives me wild when you wear red, Data."

"I am aware," he said softly, and kissed me.

Our lovemaking that night was tender and sweet and incredibly satisfying.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46274.38**

 **(Friday, 11 April 2369, 03:37 hours, ship's time)**

I woke up with my head on Data's chest and his hands gently stroking my hair. "Hey," I said softly.

"I did not mean to wake you," he responded in a similar tone.

"You didn't. I'm just… there's something I forgot to say, earlier; it's been niggling at my brain."

He nuzzled the top of my head, and I smiled against his bare chest. "Tell me?"

"First, there's a cybernetics conference at Hamal IV next weekend. Commander Maddox is speaking there, and I think we should go."

" _We_?"

"I'd like to meet him."

"I will request leave, and speak to Lasso on your behalf."

"Thank you. There's more."

"I assumed as much."

"Second… we need to find some new friends. Couples ideally. Both of us."

Data was quiet for about half a second, before he said. "I concur."

"Third, if you ever – and I mean _ever_ – slap my buttocks or call me 'filly' again I'm going to shove a padd so far up your shiny, gold ass – "

"But, Zoe, my ass is _not_ shiny."

 _"Data!"_

"Dearest?" His voice was innocent. _Too_ innocent.

I laughed into the darkness of our room. "I love you," I said, because sometimes those three words really do mean everything.

"I am devoted to you," he responded. And I knew that those words, from his lips, meant everything, as well.

I pushed myself off him, only so that I could claim another kiss. Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

 **Notes:** Includes the episodes "Rascals" and "A Fistful of Datas." I thought this was going to be a fluffy chapter, and instead it became all about personal growth. References are to _Crush II: Ostinato_ , _Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress & Android_, _For Auld Lang Syne,_ and the episode "Measure of a Man." The first two movements of Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor are on the Sostenuto YouTube. Special thanks to **saya4haji** for conversations about ethics, and to the Brain Trust for general awesomeness. Apologies to those who are desperately awaiting follow-up on Ensign Sutter and certain other characters. Those threads will be picked up in time.


	7. Stirred

**Stirred**

 _ **Continuity Note:**_ _This chapter takes place between "A Fistful of Datas" and "Quality of Life," and the events depicted within are unrelated to canon._

 _ **Time Conversion Note:**_ _Dates and times are rendered in closest matching Terran times throughout the chapter, even though Hamal IV has its own calendar and clock. This is simply to make it easier for readers to follow the timeline._

* * *

 **Stardate 46284.91**

 **(Monday, 14 April 2369, 23:48 hours ship's time)**

 **Aboard the S/V** _ **Varuna**_

The ocean was flat and still, and shone like glass in the light of the full moon. The breeze that caused water to lap at the sides of my sailboat was barely perceptible. The sound of the water against the wooden hull was softer than a kiss from a newborn baby… or a puppy… the latter of which I had more experience with.

I'd set the anchor checking twice to make sure it had caught. The water here was deeper than most sailors expected, even though shore wasn't more than a hundred meters or so away. I'd read about more than one vessel drifting out into the shipping lanes because a tired captain hadn't actually hit the bottom with their anchor.

As it was, I'd laid out almost all my anchor chain.

Good thing the sea was calm.

I could see the glow of light from around the companionway hatch, and see it reflected in the water close to the ship. Lying on my back on the deck, I could also see the steady glow of the mast-light, a tiny glimmer against the starry sky. If I sat up, I'd see the lights of the harbor to port, and the vast ocean to starboard.

Usually, I spent time aboard my little wooden boat when I wanted to challenge my sailing skills, or feel the adrenaline rush of a high-risk sport. But this visit to the _Varuna_ had been prompted by the utter failure of swimming or boxing to help quiet my nerves or allow me to purge some of my frustration.

Somehow, lying under the open sky, smelling the salt air, feeling the deck rocking ever so slightly beneath me, I felt calm. Maybe my parents were right and I really _was_ half-mermaid. Maybe I should have let Q give me gills and fins after all. Not forever… but an hour or two of being able to free-dive without having to worry about coming up for air seemed _just_ the thing.

I felt, more than heard, the bump of something against the port hull, but before I could get up, a familiar voice called out, "Ahoy, _Varuna_. May I come aboard?"

I scrambled to my feet, grateful that I was wearing jeans and a tank top and not a bikini. "Captain Picard?" I moved toward the place his voice had come from. "Did I usurp your holodeck time, sir?" I threw him a line and watched as he pulled his boat – a catamaran – against mine, and then hoisted himself onto _Varuna_ 's deck.

"Not at all, Zoe."

"It's not boxing night." I made it a statement. I knew it wasn't boxing night, because we boxed during the senior officers' poker game, and that was typically on either Tuesday or Thursday evenings, events permitting. "And even if it was, it's pretty late."

"Commander Data suggested I might find you here," he said, ignoring my observation about the time. "This isn't the ship from your birthday party."

"No, sir. _Varuna_ 's too small to host more than two or three people. We used the _Intrepid_ for my party. This is the ship I use for those 'gonzo sailing' sessions Data doesn't like me doing."

"Would you mind increasing the illumination?" I shook my head and wordlessly went to do as he asked. Immediately the deck was flooded with warm amber light. "Much better. I don't want to pull you away from your recreational time, Zoe, but… I felt I should explain my decision about Ensign Sutter in person."

I stiffened slightly. Data had informed me earlier that day that they were planning to do basically nothing about the person who had ensured that Lore's last 'gift' had ended up in our quarters, and I hadn't been particularly gracious about it.

"This sounds like a conversation that might be better over tea. I can make some, down below, if you want… or we can go somewhere else…?" I wasn't accustomed to interacting with this man in so casual a setting, especially one that was – for all intents and purposes – my domain.

"I used to spend summers sailing a vessel not unlike this, when I was a boy," the captain informed me. "Let's go below. I know my way around a propane stove – that is what you have?"

"Yes, sir."

I opened the hatch and led the way down the companionway. Below-deck, _Varuna_ was a picture of cozy efficiency. There was only a single bunk, a sort of wedge-shaped space tucked under the bow, but I had a lantern hanging above it, and a colorful patchwork quilt that just begged to be lounged upon.

The galley was tiny – a two-burner propane stove, a sink, and a small refrigerator tucked underneath. The original version of my wooden sailboat had been designed and constructed before the age of replicators and transporters and starships, and I appreciated the old-school authenticity.

Apparently, the captain did, as well. "You sit," he said, his tone softening the order to a request. "Tea is in the cupboard?"

"Loose tea, yes, sir. In a tin. Kettle is on the top shelf to the left. Infuser is one below.: The shelves had ropes across them to hold things in place in case of rough seas. They wouldn't hold up to the kind of swell I'd put in the program when I used it back in January, but for normal sailing, they were enough. I opened the cupboard at the base of the galley table, and retrieved mugs and spoons. "Honey's on the bottom shelf. I'm afraid I didn't stock milk or lemon."

Captain Picard hadn't exaggerated his comfort in such a ship, and in short order we were sitting on opposite sides of the table with steaming mugs of tea in front of us. He held his by the handle, and I noticed for the first time that his hands showed his age more than his face did. His fingers weren't anywhere near as long or as elegant as Data's but he had his own reserved grace that was compelling to observe. Meanwhile I had wrapped my own hand through the handle of the mug, so that the curve of the pottery was nestled against my palm.

"How much do you know about Daniel Sutter, Zoe?" the captain asked after I'd had time to settle.

"Not much beyond that he has a daughter who's roughly Alexander's age, and that he seems old to be an ensign."

The captain nodded. "I see. I'm going to share some of his history with you, Zoe. I expect that it will stay between us. He lost his wife – Clara's mother – in the battle at Wolf 359." He pronounced the numbers -as almost everyone did – as three distinct words.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Recovering from such a loss would be enough to stall almost anyone's career, but Mr. Sutter had been up for promotion before he and his wife were married. Her pregnancy was difficult, and he took a leave of absence.."

"And then he took bereavement leave after…" I didn't finish the sentence.

The captain's confirming nod was grave. "In between he and Clara tried to settle, but life as a single parent in Starfleet is challenging, and it was especially so during the rebuilding."

I nodded that time. "I remember, when Tev – T'vek Mairaj – and I came back to the ship after the Battle." Even I put an audible capital on that word when I was referring to the Borg incursion that had happened during my first Christmas break as a member of the _Enterprise_ family. "I remember Data explaining that so many ships and people had been lost that there were constant reassignments."

I also remembered that Captain Picard had been turned into a Borg named Locutus and made to serve as their spokesperson.

"Quite so."

"But I don't understand how that led to him working for Lore, sir."

I'd always thought the captain's eyes were normal blue or brown – maybe hazel - but at that moment they seemed almost steely, a grey-brown color that reminded me of a stormy sky. He took a long draught of _his_ tea and when he began to speak again, it was in a low, gravelly voice, one that was heavy with too much knowledge, too much experience, and too much guilt.

"Try, Zoe… try to imagine how you might feel if you were a young parent, a young officer. Your wife and daughter cannot always travel with you, and the leave you took in the early days of your marriage already has you off the career trajectory you hoped to have."

I sipped my tea, but I kept my eyes on Picard's face, made sure he could tell I was paying attention.

The captain continued. "Then, just when you've landed an assignment on a _Galaxy_ -class vessel, a ship where your family is not merely tolerated, but welcomed, your universe is turned upside-down. An unstoppable enemy comes from nowhere. All too soon, your wife is dead, your child is now your sole responsibility, and Command keeps moving you from one ship to another, trying as best they can to accommodate your needs as a single parent."

"If you're trying to make me empathize with Ensign Sutt – " I began, but Picard raised a hand to stop me.

"I'd like to finish, if I may."

"Sorry, sir." He gave me a look that reminded me of the way Data looked at me when I said something unnecessary. I wondered if my partner had picked it up from his commanding officer.

"Finally, all the reassignments come to an end. The flagship needs an engineer with your skills, and the officers thereon are known for boosting the careers of those who serve aboard her. You are excited; you know that the _Enterprise_ is a plum billet. But you are also wary. You will be serving under the captain who – unwillingly or not – aided the Borg in their strike against the Federation. You want to serve the man; but you cannot separate the man from the monster."

"You are _not_ a monster, sir," I said.

The captain shifted the angle of his head slightly and I experienced the full force of his anguish. His eyes were dry, but mine were suddenly blurry with tears. "Perhaps not. But to Ensign Sutter I'm the man who killed his wife, and Commander Data is the man who cut the orders to bring him to this ship."

"Because you were on leave and Commander Riker was in command, and he was acting first officer." I remembered Data sitting in the living room of the quarters I shared with my mother, surrounded by padds, working all night while guarding my sleep.

"Quite so," Picard said again, but his voice quivered when he said it, and the hand that was holding his tea was shaking. He caught me noticing it and pushed the mug away, then tapped his comm-badge. "Picard to Commander Data."

 _"Data here, sir."_ My partner's voice sounded throughout the ship, rather than emanating from the metal pin on the captain's uniform.

"I believe you and Zoe have a trip to prepare for. If you would report Holodeck Three, I think she'd appreciate an escort home. Have Lieutenant Ferguson take command for the rest of the watch."

If Data perceived anything unusual in the captain's 'request,' it wasn't evident in his voice. All he said was, _"Aye, sir. I am on my way."_

I expected the captain to take his leave immediately, and he did rise to his feet, but he didn't turn toward the companionway. Instead, he paused, waited for me to look up at him, and held my gaze. "Ensign Sutter's actions aren't being ignored, Zoe. He's been reprimanded. He's also agreed to help us track Lore's location."

I left the booth as well. "Thank you for explaining, sir," I said.

"Thank you for listening, Zoe." He glanced around at the cozy cabin and smiled faintly. "This is a lovely program. If you ever tire of boxing, and don't mind sharing your time with an old man, I'd love to spend an evening sailing."

If he had been any other person, I would have protested that he wasn't old. Then I would have taken the three steps toward him that would have allowed the hug he seemed to need . But he was Captain Jean-Luc Picard, and I was just his second officer's girlfriend, so I met his smile with a watery one of my own and said only, "I'd like that, sir."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46287.06**

 **(Tuesday, 15 April, 2369, 18:43 hours, ship's time)**

Data was already home when I arrived at our quarters a little before seven at night. We were supposed to be leaving for Hamal IV at eleven so that we'd arrive in time to check into our hotel and rest for a while before the opening night programming of the conference we were attending, and we'd spent the morning packing and getting Reg Barclay up to speed on Spot's current routine, but after lunch I'd ducked out, claiming a personal errand, and it had taken me longer than expected.

"Sorry I'm late," I said, leaning across his console to greet him with a brief kiss. "I took longer than I thought I would." I thrust a padd at him and asked, "Could you wear your head-of-ops hat for a moment, and approve this?"

My partner took the device from me and scanned the document that was in active use. "You took the high school equivalency test," he observed.

"Yeah."

"Even though you have less than two months left in the school year?"

"Yeah."

His thumb hovered over the touch-screen. "May I ask why?"

"I don't want to still be a schoolgirl when I meet Commander Maddox," I confessed. "I wanted to be… I _need_ to be finished with high school before we start this trip. I was late because I was waiting for the results, but Ms. Phelps said you or Commander Riker still needed to approve it, before it's official, and you're more accessible."

Data nodded. "I understand." He pressed the virtual button that would confirm the completion of my secondary education and transmit that information to both the school system on Centaurus and my admissions counselor at Yale. "Zoe, why did you not tell me you were going to do this?"

I'd assumed he would want to know that. "Do you remember what I said after everything with the Ferengi?" I knew that he had a memory record of pretty much every conversation we'd ever had, but I was never going to stop asking.

"I do. I also recall promising that I would never require you to step into a role you weren't ready for."

"I know. But this is… this is sort of tangential. We're going to this conference largely to satisfy my curiosity. I'm pretty sure when you attend a cybernetics and AI conference on the arm of the only sentient android in Starfleet, you get noticed, and it will be easier for you if you can tell people I'll be at Yale next semester." I took a beat as I walked to the replicator to order a light dinner. "I didn't really mean to do it without telling you. It wasn't an impulsive decision, exactly, but I was a little concerned you'd talk me out of it. Are you eating, or just me?"

"I will join you," he said, leaving his workstation to join me at the table.

I brought our meal – a lemon and caper pasta dish, and salad – and took my seat. "So, _would_ you have tried to talk me out of it?"

Data surprised me with his answer. "No, Zoe, I would not have. Testing out of high school was an option you considered when we first spoke about your current arrangement, and I understand that this represents a psychological shift as well as an administrative detail."

"And _that_ is why I love you."

"Because I comprehend your motivations?"

"That, among other things." I ate some of the pasta before I spoke again. "You didn't have to have the captain track me down on the holodeck last night. I would have been fine hearing the long version of the decision about Ensign Sutter from you."

"I do not doubt that. However, you and the captain have formed a special relationship of your own, and he felt that there were nuances to the situation that would be best understood coming from him."

"'Special relationship?' You make it sound like we're representing foreign powers in a game of diplomacy." I was joking, but at the same time, there was a kernel of truth in what I'd said.

"Not as such," he countered. "But your friendship is outside the hierarchy of rank, and he appreciates the conversations that you share as much as he enjoys sparring with you in a boxing ring."

I could feel myself blushing.. "Did he actually _say_ that?"

"He did," Data said.

"Hmm."

"Zoe?"

"Nothing. I mean… I'm not sure what to think."

"I would suggest that you simply accept it as fact, and not dwell upon it."

"Yeah," I said for possibly the thousandth time that evening. "So," I began, changing the subject, "what do I need to pack for this trip? Is the same group of people that attend the conference you went to on Kneriad a couple years ago likely to be there? Do you have geeky cyberneticist friends you've been withholding from me?"

"The conference I generally attend is one that is geared more toward 'research and development,' while the Hamalki event is more academic in nature."

"So… more conceptual, less practical?"

"Precisely."

"I'm going to feel like an utter idiot all weekend, aren't I?"

But Data surprised me by disagreeing. "It is true that you are neither a cyberneticist nor a scientist at all, but you are intellectually curious – "

" – like you – " I interjected. It was one of the first commonalities we had discovered about each other.

"Indeed - and you have likely absorbed much more knowledge than you recognize, merely through our relationship. As well, I believe you may enjoy some of the philosophical discussions. Did you notice that one of the lectures is being offered by a professor from Yale?"

We continued our discussion of the program while we finished dinner and I figured out what to wear, and then I took a shower and changed into a jogging suit that was suitable for a shuttle trip. I saw no point in dressing up for the trip; I'd change right before we arrived.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46292.81**

 **(Thursday, 17 April 2369, 21:03 hours, adjusted local time)**

 **Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV**

We were three minutes late to the cocktail party.

We'd checked into the hotel around three in the afternoon, and gone directly to the conference registration to pick up our packets of data flimsies telling us the schedule of panels and labs – there were a couple of hands-on sessions.

The time left before the party was spent napping (me) and talking (both of us, though Data was uncharacteristically quiet), until I got up to have a light dinner. While the invitation had mentioned that there would be hors d'oeuvres available that evening, I knew from similar events with my father that eating first was always a wise precaution.

Finally, I'd paused in the finishing touches of hair and makeup to ask my partner, "Put this on for me?" I held up the pink pearl necklace he'd given me nearly a year before.

His delicate fingers had the clasp fastened at the nape of my neck in no time, and he'd placed a kiss there as well.

I blotted my lipstick, and rose from the vanity chair, smoothing my dress. I'd chosen a deep purple rather than black because I liked the way it complimented the gold of his dress uniform. Looking at our reflection in the mirror I smiled and asked if I looked alright.

"You are beautiful," came my lover's simple answer, accompanied by his hand reaching for my hair, as if our preparations could not be considered complete until he'd touched it. "My Zoe."

I'd grinned at him. "Yes," I said. "I am."

Twenty minutes later, Data and I were in the top-floor bar, ensconced on a love seat in one of many groupings of furniture that set in various configurations under what appeared to be fairy lights embedded in spider webs, deep in conversation with a Vulcan/Orion hybrid, a giant housecat, and a crystal spider.

I'd expected Data to be recognized. I'd expected people to greet him. I hadn't considered that being his date – the first he'd ever brought to any conference – would cause people to become interested in _me_ , but it was kind of fun meeting some of my boyfriend's acquaintances from previous gatherings.

A significant number of the people who had come to greet us had been women, but most of them were older – leaders in their fields, or tenured professors at some of the best science and technical schools in the Federation.

A few had been younger, and had displayed disappointment that the cybernetics world's literal golden boy was now 'taken.'

Finally, we were approached by someone who made Data's face brighten in a way that meant she was a real friend. The woman, who introduced herself as L'mura, had the dusky green skin of an Orion female. Her features were Vulcan, but her hair was long, and arranged in one of the latest styles, and her manner was warm but reserved.

"You two look like you could use a little rescuing," she'd said after flashing me a friendly smile. "You'll have to forgive everyone. Data's never come to one of these things with a date before, and we're all curious about the woman who managed to capture an android's heart."

"I have been remiss," Data observed. "L'mura, this is my girlfriend, Zoe Harris. Zoe, L'mura is actually Dr. L'mura Jedush; she teaches a course in cybernetics at the university on Rigel VII."

The black-haired woman flashed me another smile. "You look a bit young to be a scientist," she said, but then she added. "Forgive me; I'm too blunt sometimes."

"My interest in the subject is personal," I explained, glancing at Data, as if it wasn't obvious why I'd wanted to attend a cybernetics conference. "But I'm hoping I'll be allowed into the Philosophy of AI course at Yale next semester."

"Yale?" She arched an eyebrow. "Impressive. But then I think we all knew that when Data finally found the right woman she wouldn't be anything but. I'd love to hear more, but you really should come join us. Whiskers and Chimes are here, Data, and we've saved seats for you. For _both_ of you."

Data glanced at me with a questioning look, and waited for my slight nod before responding. "Thank you. We would be happy to join you."

"It's that way. I'll rejoin you in a bit." And she disappeared into the milling crowd.

"She likes you," I teased my partner after L'mura was out of earshot.

"I consider her a friend," he responded.

"No, I mean, she _likes_ you. Should I be jealous?" I really was only teasing. "I knew you were _known_ , but I didn't realize the people here would realize what a catch you are."

"If anyone has cause for jealousy, dearest, it is not you. Come, let us join the group. I believe you and Chimes will 'hit it off' and Whiskers is the professor you wish to meet."

"Whiskers and Chimes? Really? You will explain these nicknames – they are nicknames, right?"

"All will soon be made clear," he said in a tone that meant both he wanted me to form my own impressions and also that _he_ was teasing _me_ a little.

"Great, I'm dating a magic eight ball," I grumbled. But I enjoyed the slight pressure of his hand at the small of my back as he guided me through the warren of people and tables until we'd found the group L'mura had indicated.

"D'ta! It's about time." The greeting came from one of the many Hamalki who were present at the conference, though she was the only one in this particular group. "We sent L'm'ra to rescue you, but she's disappeared. She said you brought a date." Her voice sounded like windchimes, which was typical for her species: meter-tall twelve-limbed arachnids that looked like they were made of polished glass. Also typical of her species was a tendency to avoid vowel sounds. The translators built into our comm-badges rendered her words into understandable language, but proper names weren't translated.

"It is good to see you again, Ch'm's" Data answered. "This is Zoe Harris, and she is not merely a date. We are –" He used a Hamalki word that the translator in my comm-badge (which I'd worn inside the strap of my dress) rendered as _life-mates_ and I looked at him sharply. I'd be asking about that later. "Ch'm's is an Architectrix," he shared with me.

The title, I knew, was reserved for the very best engineers and architects on Hamal IV.

" _Life-mates_?" Even after working for a Hamalki music store owner over my holiday break a couple years before, I hadn't realized they could focus all twelve of their eyes on a forward target – me. "Well met, Z'e H'rr's, and welcome to our web. If you cannot say my name, you may call me 'Chimes.'"

It was a traditional greeting, I knew. "Just Zoe is fine," I said. "And thank you. I'm pleased to be sharing your orb.

Chimes's crystal thorax flushed pink, expressing delight. "You know our greeting. Did Data coach you?"

"Actually, no," I said. "I worked for a Hamalki retailer on Centaurus a couple of years ago – just after Data's last visit to Kneriad. S'l'k owns Sebastian's Music, and she taught me a lot."

"I went to school with S'l'k's daughter. S'l'k'a might make an appearance here on Saturday if she remembers to surface from her research. So, you worked in a music store. Is that how you and Data met?"

We had taken our seats during that exchange, and I felt my partner's arm curve around me, his hand stretching to rest against my hip. He wasn't typically quite that demonstrative in public, but the contact helped me relax a bit. I took a moment to look at the drink menu embedded into the table in the center of our space, and ordered a vodka cranberry and a sparkling Altair water with lime.

"Zoe was my student on the _Enterprise_ ," Data answered before I could. "She was initially one of the members of an advanced mathematics tutorial, but we began an exploration of music theory together. Over time, our relationship changed from purely teacher/student to one of friendship, and eventually… more."

"And now you make beautiful music together?" came the teasing purr of a tom-cat, if tom-cats could speak Standard. I turned toward the voice, and found myself staring at a giant calico housecat who was at least as tall as my partner. I recognized him as Eeiauoan, but I'd never met one of his kind in person before, and I had to fight the urge to bury my hands in his luxurious fur.

He reacted to my less-than-polite stare by preening, while Data informed me, "Wire-Whiskers is the Yale professor mentioned in the brochure. His name is left out because his seminars are immensely popular."

"My friends call me 'Whiskers,'" the Eeiauoan clarified.

"She'll be calling you 'Professor Whiskers' come fall," L'mura informed him. I hadn't seen her return, but she was perched on the arm of the professor's chair. "Zoe's going to Yale."

"I don't suppose you'll be in the engineering or science department?" Whiskers asked hopefully. Looking closely at his face, I could see why he'd been named as he had: his whiskers looked like coiled wires or springs.

Our drinks arrived, and Data gave me the vodka, though he warned me, with a whisper in my ear, "This is not synthehol."

I nodded, and reminded him that I'd eaten dinner for a reason, then turned back to Whiskers to answer, "I'm afraid not. I'm going to be studying theatre and social justice."

His ears literally perked up. "Social justice, a worthy and needed field. Tell me, Zoe, have you read much about AI rights?"

"Not as much as I probably should have, all things considered, but I can't deny that the subject interests me." I glanced at my partner again, but he was in conversation with L'mura and Chimes. "I'm really looking forward to your seminar, though. I asked Data if buying your book might get me a seat in your class – I know it's meant for sophomores and higher – but he refused to conjecture."

Was it wrong that I saw echoes of Spot in the way the professor tilted his head? "You're an entering freshman?" He turned his attention to Data for a moment, studying him, then he returned his focus to me.

"Yes." For a moment, I was afraid he would do the math and object to my relationship with Data, but he just sort of nodded to himself. "You're attending my seminar Saturday morning?"

"Yes."

"And you'll be at the Yale mixer on Saturday afternoon?"

"I'd planned to be; yes."

He changed tacks. "Why theatre? Why social justice?"

After a warming sip of vodka cranberry, I explained. "I've been a performer all my life. It was always expected that I'd go to the Martian Academy, like my father, but I really want a broader course of study. I spent the summer and last semester on tour with the Idyllwild Troupe, and since returning to the Enterprise, I've been interning with the protocol officer and spending some time with the JAG officer as well."

I saw him blink three times in rapid succession, and caught his slitted pupils narrowing and then opening up again. "Interesting. And you believe performing on stage can change the world?" he challenged.

"I believe the _right_ performance can provoke thought and emotions which can be channeled to create social change," I responded.

I felt Data's hand squeeze my hip, and dropped my own to touch his for a few seconds, as the conversation continued. I heard Data explaining to L'mura and Chimes that we'd come because I'd wanted to meet another of the speakers, and the Hamalki Architectrix asked which one.

"Bruce Maddox," Data answered. "He and I have been corresponding, and Zoe wished to meet him herself."

"So, you're putting a demon to rest?" Chimes asked. "We all know Br'ce's history with Data." The needle-sharp spines on her abdomen bristled, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Whiskers' hackles rise."

"Something like that," I agreed.

When silence threatened to destroy the mood, Whisker's deftly turned the subject to music, and the four of us were soon enjoying an animated discussion when a voice I'd only ever heard on recordings interrupted us.

"Architectrix, Professors, it's good to see you. Commander Data, I hoped I'd run into you tonight." There was something about the man that was slightly off. His manner reminded me a little of Admiral Satie, and a lot of a used-flitter salesman.

"Commander Maddox," Data said, squeezing my hip and then letting go. "I do not believe you have met my partner. Zoe, this is Bruce Maddox. Commander, Zoe Harris."

I was never certain if I was supposed to stand up during such introductions, but since no one else rose to their feet, including Data, I didn't either, which is good because if I'd had to shake his hand he would have found mine to be sweaty from sudden nervousness. At the same time, though, I was confused. How, I wondered, could the man who wanted to take my lover apart seem so ordinary?

"I received your invitation to lunch. My panel is tomorrow morning, but it should finish in time for me to find you," Maddox said. Was it just me, or did everything he said seem kind of smarmy?

"As Zoe and I will be attending your panel, 'finding' us should pose little difficulty." Data pointed out. Anyone else would have laced that sentence with snark. From my boyfriend it was completely innocent.

"No, I suppose not," the man in science blue agreed. "I look forward to it. Forgive me for interrupting your evening."

"Not at all," Data replied. "We will see you then."

As Maddox left, he cast a glance back at us, over his shoulder. I had the distinct impression that he wanted to be part of our group, but couldn't figure out how to get invited.

"I truly dislike that man," L'mura announced after Maddox had left us. "Men should not simper. Especially not when they're smirking at the same time."

"Tell us what you really _think_ , L'm'ra," came the melodious sound of Chimes's amused voice.

"The problem with Bruce Maddox is that he'd actually be capable of real brilliance if his own ego didn't get in the way," Whiskers put in. Then he yawned. "I'm afraid the space-lag is getting to me. Ladies, Data, thank you for a lovely evening." I felt something furry on my wrist, and looked down to find the professor's tail curled around it. Startled, I looked into his eyes. "You're a delightful young woman, Zoe Harris. I look forward to seeing you in my seminar and to speaking with you more at the mixer."

My smile wasn't quite a grin, but I was pleased by his apparent acceptance. "Thank you, Professor. I'm looking forward to both."

His tail tightened around my wrist and then released, and – inasmuch as a cat can wink – he winked at me. "Call me Whiskers," he purred. "We have friends in common."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46294.61**

 **(Friday, 18 April 2369, 12:47 hours, local time)**

 **Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV**

"So, if there are no more questions, I'd like to thank you all for attending. The discount code for my book is in the conference packet. I encourage you all to acquire it." There was polite applause and then the room-lights came up to normal illumination, making Bruce Maddox appear small and almost insignificant as he left the dais, and skirted the room heading for the main doors.

"Are you buying his book?" I asked Data, who was sitting next to me near the aisle at the back of the room. We'd chosen our seats in order to be unobtrusive, and it had worked, mostly. A few people had recognized Data as they entered, and one or two had paused to exchange greetings.

"I had not intended to," my partner replied. "Though if you would care to read it, we can certainly purchase a copy to share."

"Seriously, he should give you a copy," I said. "And credit you with half his material."

"Much of his research was done independently, Zoe, based on those notes that Dr. Soong deigned to make public before his retreat to Terlina III."

"But he knows you're now in possession of the estate, yes?"

"I believe so," Data responded. "But I am not certain. And I have not asked him to confirm that he is aware of my… inheritance. In any case, this is neither the time nor the appropriate venue for this conversation. If we are to make our lunch date with Commander Maddox, we must leave now."

I couldn't argue his point, so I waited for him to exit the aisle seat, and then I slid out next to him, and smoothed the skirt I'd chosen to wear. I'd brought almost entirely skirts and dresses on the trip; never underestimate the power and confidence boost of a killer wardrobe.

The crowd had already thinned by the time we made our way to the casual café in the lobby. This hotel had a formal restaurant as well, but the café was the better choice for lunch, and it was late enough that most people were getting their food to go, and taking it to other panels or seminars. Commander Maddox was waiting for us near the concierge stand, and we were guided to a table in the back almost instantly.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," Data began, after a server had taken our orders. "I found your presentation intriguing, and I am eager to discuss some of the results you have achieved with your prototype."

"I'd be happy to," Maddox answered. "But I was under the impression this was a social lunch."

"It is," I said, entering the conversation. "I recently learned that you and Data have been corresponding about a lot more than just the development of a functional positronic matrix, and I wanted to find out, in person, why he would choose to seek personal advice from the man who wants to take him apart."

If I was brutally honest in my reason for wanting to meet the cyberneticist, he was decently embarrassed. He even blushed.

"That was… that was a long time ago," Maddox said. "I let my personal ambition and… and ego… cloud my perception of Commander Data." He had been addressing me, but he switched his focus to include both of us in his next statement. "I have to admit, I was surprised when I learned you were dating, Data. Or that you were so young, Zoe. When I learned you were coming to this conference, I hoped I would meet you."

It's possible that he was sincere, but he just seemed too smarmy for belief. Too smooth. "Well," I said, "now you have."

"You're a student?" He addressed me again.

"I'm doing an internship with the protocol and JAG officers on the _Enterprise_ , in preparation for when I start at Yale in the fall semester," I answered.

"You set it up for her?" Maddox asked Data.

"I did not," Data answered. "Captain Picard was approached by Captain Louvois about the _Enterprise_ being host to a pilot program for live-aboard students who were not necessarily Academy candidates, and it was he who tapped Zoe as a participant."

"Captain Louvois?"

"Philippa," I clarified. "I believe you're familiar with her." It wasn't a question. We all knew how Maddox and Louvois had originally met.

"But you were only selected because you're Data's girlfriend." Maddox wasn't asking a question, either.

"No, Commander, she was not. Zoe and Captain Picard share a fondness for wooden sailing vessels and athletic pugilism."

"Pugilism?" Maddox asked, looking at me with a bit more focus. "You… box?"

"I'm told I have a mean right hook," I answered helpfully. "Do you mind if I ask you a question now? Actually, I have a few."

He seemed caught between amusement and annoyance. "By all means, Zoe."

"Thank you, Bruce. I can call you Bruce, right? I mean, I noticed you and Data still address each other by rank, which makes me worry that maybe you're treating him – and by extension our relationship – as a science experiment."

I expected Data to say something slightly admonishing to me. I could tell he was uncertain about the direction our conversation was heading, and I really wasn't trying to cause a scene, but something about the black-haired scientist just irritated me.

But then Maddox exhorted his aid.

"Data, I thought we were becoming friends… you can't believe this… young woman's irrational accusation is valid?"

"In the time I have known Zoe, I have never noticed a tendency toward irrationality. When she discovered that I had been corresponding with you about our relationship, I expected that she would accuse _me_ of treating our relationship as an experiment, which," he reached for my left hand and laced his fingers through mine, "it is _not_. The question would not have been irrational, however, nor would it have been invalid. I have also observed that Zoe often perceives things that I miss. If we are, indeed, becoming friends, should we not drop the use of titles when we communicate… Bruce?"

Contact with Data made me feel calmer, even though I knew he'd made that gesture as much because he was making a point as because he was gauging my state of mind by surreptitiously checking my pulse, but my real attention was on Maddox.

"We should have been on a first-name basis years ago, Data," our tablemate agreed with the merest hint of a stammer on the word _should_. "And for the record, Zoe, no, I do not view Data or your relationship with him as any kind of experiment. I'm… I'm pleased that he has found someone."

His manner had changed, loosened up slightly, on that last sentence. "Okay. So… can we trust that whatever Data writes to you goes no further than your eyes and ears? Some of it was pretty personal."

"You have my word."

"Throw in a free copy of your book and I'll accept that." I was kidding, mostly. I wanted to see what he said.

The scientist's brown eyes widened. "Oh, of course! I should have… I should have offered a copy in the first place." He hesitated. "Zoe, what did _you_ think of my presentation?"

"Your delivery is a little stiff," I said. "Consider taking an acting class to help loosen up on stage. Data could give you pointers, he's quite a natural."

"You act?" Maddox seemed surprised by that idea.

"I have been a member of the theatre group on the _Enterprise_ since its inception," Data replied. "I have had the privilege of sharing the stage with Zoe more than once before she joined the Idyllwild Troupe last year. It has been a great help to my personal development."

"I'll consider it," Bruce agreed. "But I meant the content."

"Well, I'm not sure how much I understood, but what I did was interesting. I'm really not a scientist, and my interest in the subject of cybernetics and AI really _is_ personal."

"I think my book might be beneficial to you, then. And of course, feel free to contact me if you have any questions."

We'd all been eating while we talked, and I knew Data really did want to discuss Maddox's current project so, finished with the chicken Caesar salad I'd ordered, I pushed my plate away, and began the motions of leaving. "I'm going to let you two discuss other things," I said, "but I have one more question before I go."

I waited for Maddox to nod, and then asked. "I don't get it. I don't understand how you could spend even five minutes with Data and doubt his personhood. Was he _that_ different, back then?"

I expected him to blow off the question, especially after the conversation we'd just had, but he ducked his head in apparent shame, then raised it and met my eyes. "He was a little different. Less comfortable in social environments, more eager to please people. But the truth is that I didn't want to accept him as a person. I wanted to have a 'thing' to explore." He turned to Data, and said, very sincerely, "I did you a disservice, and I apologize."

"There is no need," Data replied. "It is possible that your dissenting vote on my Academy admission, and your refusal to accept that I was – that I _am_ – more than just circuits and programming spurred me to truly become the person I believed myself capable of being."

"Have you succeeded?" Maddox challenged.

"I do not believe anyone's life is ever complete until it has ended," Data answered, in what I recognized as his philosophical tone, "but, I am coming closer to that ideal every day." He surprised me by reclaiming my hand. "Much of my recent personal growth can be directly attributed to Zoe, and to our relationship."

"And that's my cue," I said, in a much brighter tone than I'd had when we'd started our meal. "The hotel has a salon and spa. I might see if they have an opening for a pedicure… you promised me dancing, and I want my feet to be ready for it."

"Dancing?" Maddox asked. "Ah… at The Orb?"

"Yes!" Data's response was also brighter than the one he'd been using before. "Dinner and dancing were part of 'the deal' when Zoe suggested we come here."

"I'm sure you'll have a lovely time," Maddox said. "My partner and I will also be at The Orb tonight; perhaps we'll run into each other."

"Perhaps we will," I said, with a bit of a cheeky undertone. "But I intend to spend most of the evening dancing. My partner is an absolute _machine_ on the dance floor."

Data's mouth curved up at the corners, but Maddox stared at me for a long moment before he allowed himself to laugh. I brushed a kiss across my boyfriend's mouth, and left the two of them to discuss positronics and neural nets until the café staff kicked them out.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46295.58**

 **(Friday, 18** **April 2369, 21:21 hours, local time)**

 **The Orb Restaurant, Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV**

"Are you enjoying the conference so far?" Data asked me as we moved in a slow waltz on the dance floor. We'd shared a vegetarian entrée for our meal, and were waiting to order dessert until after we'd danced a bit.

"It's been interesting," I answered honestly. "I ran into L'mura in the spa. She said I'd probably get more out of Whiskers's presentation than I did out of Maddox's, but I know it's likely to be too basic for you, so if you want to attend something else, we can just find each other at lunch."

"That would be acceptable," he agreed, "if you are certain you are comfortable being alone."

"Well, I _am_ a little worried some hot female cyberneticist might steal you away from me," I teased. "Especially the way you're dressed." Once again, Data had chosen to wear his dress uniform, and I'd chosen a deep maroon dress that I knew would complement the color.

"Then I must endeavor to reassure you that such a thing could never happen," he responded. "Perhaps we should cut the evening short and return to our room after dessert."

I smiled at him. "I like this plan."

"I suspected that you would."

The music changed and we paused to acknowledge the live band. The next song was another slow piece, though more freeform than a waltz, and I used the opportunity to slide my hands over Data's chest and clasp them behind his neck. "People are staring at us," I said softly.

His hands came to rest at the small of my back. "People have stared at us before, Zoe, and I do not need to remind you that such behavior will likely follow us wherever we go. If you are bothered by it…"

"I'm not," I said, interrupting. "I just… Data, you're holding me so close and you look so handsome and I feel pretty – "

He cut me off, "You are beautiful."

"Thank you; but I wasn't fishing for compliments. If we were dancing like this on the _Enterprise_ , even in formal dress, we'd have shared a kiss by now, and I can't help wondering if we're both holding back, not because we have an audience, but because of who the audience includes."

I took a breath, letting the slight pressure of Data's hands guide my steps. It crossed my mind to ask him if he often felt the way I did just then, like a bug under a microscope, but I didn't want ruin what was left of the mood.

Data's response was to release one of his hands from my back, and reach up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear. "I _have_ been holding back," he said in a near whisper. "But not because we are surrounded by people who would likely want to ask questions about our relationship that I have no wish to answer. I have been holding back because I do not wish to _stop_ with merely kissing you."

"Since when do you experience desire?" I challenged softly.

"I am devoted to you." His words were a breath in my ear. "Should desire not be a component of that?"

I pulled away from him to search his face. "It _should_ be, yes, Data, but…"

His eyes were already flickering back and forth, searching for information. "But _I_ should not be experiencing it," he said, completing my unfinished sentence. "You are correct, Zoe. And yet, here on this dance floor, with you in my arms, I… _want_."

The song ended. The bandleader announced a break between sets.

His right hand still at the small of my back, Data guided me back to our table. "I think we should go," I said, as I retrieved my evening bag.

"But you did not have your dessert," he pointed out. "You mentioned the chocolate raspberry torte specifically."

"Data, all the chocolate in the world couldn't distract me from what you just said, and I don't think it's a topic to be explored in public. I'd like to go back to our room, please." If he was… feeling… desire, I didn't want to waste it. He'd tasted love once, for only ten seconds. Who knew how long this would last?

My partner chose not to continue the discussion, and signaled for our server, instead. It took less than two minutes for me to be presented with a to-go order of the cake I'd wanted, and for our meal to be billed to our room.

As we left the restaurant we saw Bruce Maddox arrive for the late seating, and get ushered to a table where another man was already waiting. I couldn't see the second man's face, but I saw the cyberneticist lean across the table to kiss him, and heard him murmur an apology for being late.

The answering voice, stating that he'd only been waiting a few minutes, was vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't place it, and honestly, I was more interested in what was going on with Data.

Data's long fingers were pulling at the fastening of my dress almost before the hotel room door had closed and locked behind us. "Zoe, I… I want you." He repeated what he'd whispered on the dance floor, the slight quiver in his voice telling me as much about how he… felt… as the actual words he'd spoken.

I looked into his face, into those so-familiar yellow eyes, and all thoughts of questioning whether or not we should pause to analyze went out my head. Once, over a year before, Data had told me that the thought of sex with me was 'appealing.' Since then, he'd made it clear that he enjoyed our physical intimacy, that it meant something to him.

More recently, he'd reminded me that passion was beyond him, when I'd suggested a quick encounter on the living room couch.

But in that moment? There was something _more_ in his eyes than I was accustomed to seeing, and his hands on my clothes, on my skin, radiated a kind of urgency I'd assumed I'd never experience from him.

Data's desire sparked my own, and I reached for his uniform jacket, opening it, and pushing it off his shoulders. I tugged on the t-shirt he wore under it, and he let go of me long enough to remove it. Then he guided me, backwards, to the bed.

I don't remember him removing my bra, or my stockings, or underwear. I don't remember him stepping out of the trousers I'd unfastened.

I remember his face buried in my hair for a long moment, as if the scent was somehow new to him. I remember the way he kissed me, almost reverently. Kissing Data had always been one of my favorite aspects of our relationship but that night he showed me that kissing could be its own art form.

We didn't talk, but as our bodies came together his breathing changed to match mine, and when his climax came, a little after my own, his voice shuddered as he called my name over and over. "Zoe… my – my Zoe."

"Data…" I answered his call, his own name a whisper from my lips. We shifted against each other and kissed again. "Are you alright?" His eyes were flickering back and forth and I felt like if I used more volume I might spook him.

"I am funct- I am fine," he answered, but he sounded distant even though we were literally still wrapped up in each other. He was quiet for another minute or two, and then everything about him seemed to relax. "Zoe… I _felt_. I… "

There are no rulebooks for relationships with unique beings. There are no how-to guides to help you walk your supposedly-emotionless android partner through his first – well, second – fully-fledged emotional experience. I was amazed and terrified and hopeful and wary, all at once. At the same time, I sensed that my reaction would be critical. Anything other than total support and love could send Data into an extreme of emotional denial.

I reached up to brush a fallen piece of my lover's hair away from his face, and met his lips in another, gentle, kiss. "I know, love." I said softly, feeling suddenly so much older than eighteen. "I saw… I felt it with you."

"It was… overwhelming," he said softly. "I wanted only to experience the softness of your skin, to inhale the scent of your hair, to taste your lips when I kissed you."

"And now?"

He was silent for a long moment, as if he were taking stock. (He likely was.) "The… feeling… is still there, but it is somewhat… muted."

"Should I worry? Should we call Geordi? Do you need to perform a self-diagnostic?" I couldn't help the questions that tumbled out of me.

"No." Data answered all three questions with a single word. "I am cataloguing my reactions and responses for later analysis, but right now, Zoe, I wish to… I wish to continue this experience, if you are up to it."

"Up to it?" I gave him my best 'challenge accepted' look as laughter bubbled out of me.

He swallowed my laughter with his next kiss, and then he rolled us so that I was on top of him. "Data!" My shriek was part startlement and part delight. "Again?" I asked.

"Still," he corrected, reaching up to twist some of my hair between his fingers. Very softly, he added, "Always."

I wasn't sure if it was a promise, or a prayer.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46297.04**

 **(Saturday, 19 April 2369, 10:03 hours, local time)**

 **Ballroom B, Hotel Charlotte, Hamal IV**

I was squirming in my front-row seat at Whiskers's presentation, certain everyone around me could tell I'd literally been having sex all night. An android who was experiencing desire for the first time was also, it turned out, an android who was insatiable.

We probably should have discussed what was going on in Data's head, but he'd pointed out that his choice to analyze the emotional reaction he'd had on Terlina III a year before meant he hadn't been able to share it with me and, "I do not know how long this will last," he'd said, echoing my own thoughts. "I do not want to miss this experience."

I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd focused on his own pleasure, under the circumstances, but Data had put my needs first every time, until finally, after round three, I'd had to ask him to stop so I could rest.

"I love you," I reminded him. "And I love that you want me, but if you don't let me sleep I'll be useless for the rest of the weekend."

Logic trumped desire, and there was a part of me that was disappointed.

The bigger part of me was relieved to be able to settle into sleep, and while his long fingers on my skin had been arousing, earlier, by the end of the night he'd changed the motion and the rhythm, so that his touch was soothing, instead.

Still, I was a little sore.

I fidgeted again, finally moving into a comfortable position in the too-firm chair, and focused on the giant talking housecat on the dais.

"You can't program a neural network," Whiskers said, shocking me into attention with the ferocity of his statement. "You can set parameters, but in order to remain stable and function optimally the network has to learn and grow, much like the brain of any organic being."

His presentation went on from there, and I was riveted, both by the way he presented himself, and by the concepts he was sharing.

Whiskers moved away from his initial statement and started talking about what was programmed and what wasn't, first for organic beings – "Consider your autonomic functions as your baseline programming." – and then for AI systems. He eased us away from hardware and into nuances of software. "Think about where code ends and real thought begins," he challenged us. "Think about what it means _to think_."

I had my padd out, initially intending to take notes, but as soon as I opened a new document, my head started spinning with questions, not for the professor, but for Data. Questions like: if you couldn't program a neural net, and if Lal had developed emotions, and if her net had been based on Data's own, how come he didn't perceive emotions of his own?

Or was that the reason he'd been able to experience desire the night before?

Buy why desire and not love?

And did this latest feeling even count as an emotion?

And if it didn't than what was it?

And if it _did_ , had it come from within Data's own growth or was it another trick, somehow instigated by Lore.

I shivered in my chair as the last thought occurred to me, then gave myself a mental shake. Whiskers was about to wrap up, by leading us all to his point, and I didn't want to miss it.

"Now," he said, "considering everything we've discussed today, what would you say is the most powerful phrase an artificial intelligence can utter?"

Members of the audience threw out suggestions. "I think," someone said. "I know," someone else contributed. "I am," one more person said.

"Good ideas, all of you, but you're not quite there," Whiskers said. "There's someone here who likely does know the correct answer though," he continued. I saw him scanning the audience and turning his green-eyed gaze in my direction. "Zoe, would you care to enlighten us."

I hesitated, because while I had understood most of what he'd said, I didn't have any suggestions that hadn't already been made.

Whiskers seemed to understand that I was at a loss. "Someone of our mutual acquaintance has a two-word phrase that we organics use casually, but that you're going to recognize has profound depth, now," he hinted.

I knew he meant Data, but I wasn't sure what two words he wanted me to say. I replayed the audience suggestions in my head, and then I heard Data's voice echoing back from so many memories. _"I told your father that I believed our association may be permanent,"_ he'd said once. _"I believed I could be an adequate partner, and one day a suitable mate for you."_

Knowledge clicked in my head, and I met Whiskers's eyes. "I believe," I said. "The words you're looking for are 'I believe.'"

I was not the only one thunderstruck by that notion.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46302.66**

 **(Monday, 21 April 2369, 11:21 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Descartes, NCC-1701-D-011**_

"You have been very quiet, Zoe. Is something wrong?" Data stepped out of the cockpit of our shuttle to join me in the main cabin.

"Not wrong, exactly," I said. "I just… I had a lot thrown at me over the weekend and I'm still…" I favored him with a wry smile. "I'm still processing."

After I'd left Whiskers' seminar and Data had finished with Chimes's presentation, we'd spent the remainder of the conference together. The Yale mixer ended with Whiskers inviting both Data and me to join a poker game with Chimes and L'mura that evening, and I surprised my partner by agreeing.

"You dislike poker," Data had reminded me.

"True," I'd confirmed, "but declining would have been rude. Besides, it's not so much that I dislike it as that it would be inappropriate to join the officers' game on the _Enterprise_ , even though every one of you – except Lt. Worf – has now invited me to do so. Maintaining the fiction that I hate the game allows all of us a diplomatic 'out.'"

The game had been a friendly one, played for points, and I hadn't been surprised when Data and Chimes were the last two players, but I was surprised that the Hamalki woman won.

Still, I'd enjoyed the group, and watching Data interact with peers who weren't Starfleet was educational. He was looser among them than he was on the ship, and his conversation with L'mura over the ethics of using service 'droids had fascinated me, not because he had been against it (as I knew he would be) but because I'd rarely seen him so animated.

Even with coffee and dessert that we'd all shared after the card game, we'd still been back in our room by one in the morning, where we'd stayed, skipping brunch in favor of more intimate activities, until check-out time at noon.

By fourteen hundred hours we were back aboard the shuttle, where, as Data had observed, I'd withdrawn into silence, trying to assimilate all the information – technical, personal, and emotional – the weekend had produced.

"If there is something that is causing you difficulty, please share it with me?" Data requested. "I would like to… help."

I hated to make him worry, but I didn't even know where to begin.

I patted the bench beside me, "Sit a minute?" He did, and I turned toward him. "I'm still reeling over Friday night," I said. "I keep wanting to ask you if you still feel it. I want to know if it happened organically – " Off a look from him, I interrupted myself. "- I'm sorry I don't know a better word – or if it was triggered. I keep worrying Lore is involved. And I know you're going to do a diagnostic when we get home, and we should probably wait and discuss it afterward."

"That would be the wisest course of action," Data agreed. "Zoe, whatever we determine I will always have a perfect memory record of the experience, and I will always associate the… feeling… of desire with you."

"See, you say these things, and it makes me melt, and then all I want to do is kiss you, and I forget what I want to say." I was mostly teasing him. Peering at him through slitted eyes, I accused, "This is all part of your clever scheme to keep me in love with you forever, isn't it?"

Someday, I hoped, he'd be able to laugh with me when I did those bits, but that day, he simply met my eyes with his level gaze. "I do not believe I require a 'scheme,' Zoe, clever or otherwise. I am devoted to you. I believe we belong together. Is that not enough?"

I started to tell him that it was more than enough, but then his words registered in a whole new way. "I believe," I murmured.

"Zoe?"

"Whiskers said something in his seminar, that I meant to bring up with you. Actually, he asked a question. Be impressed; I had the answer."

"What did he ask?"

"At the end of his seminar, he asked the audience to tell him 'the most powerful two words an artificial intelligence could utter.'"

"And what did you answer?"

"'I believe,'" I said. "But the thing is, I didn't really comprehend _why_ those words were so powerful until just now." I was staring at Data, looking at the man I loved with new eyes. "God, you're amazing. And I'm incredibly stupid."

"You are _not_ stupid," he protested. "You have said before that when you understand a new concept it is as if something 'clicked' in your head. Your demeanor at this moment suggests that you have just experienced such a 'click.' Will you tell me?"

"Humans… most of us… when we say something like 'I believe we'll be done around eight,' or 'I believe the answer to your question is twelve,' or whatever… we mean it very casually. But I've been mulling over what Whiskers said and it finally registered. When you say 'I believe we belong together' or 'I believe we will learn how to endure long separations,' you _mean_ it. You mean it in a way that's deeper and truer than anything else you say. Because facts and figures and information – they can be programmed. But for you to _believe_ something, it has to come from more than programming. It has to come from… from _you_."

Data was quiet for several seconds after I stopped talking. For a moment, he did that thing where he pulled back into himself, but then his presence expanded again and a slow smile curved his lips upward. It wasn't the broadest smile I'd ever seen from him, but it was the first that had ever really reached his eyes.

And it was beautiful.

If I had been hoping for profound words to go with that smile, I would have been disappointed, because all my partner said was, "That is… quite correct." Even if he'd said something amazing, something to be recorded in history books, it wouldn't have mattered, because the next thing he did was lift his hand to my face, stroke my cheek, smooth back my hair, and whisper the _other_ two words that had come from him, the ones that meant everything to me: "My Zoe."

* * *

 **Notes:** The Hamalki first appeared in the TOS novel _The Wounded Sky_ , by Diane Duane and the Eeiauoans first appeared in the TOS novel _Uhura's Song,_ by Janet Kagen. The name of the hotel refers to the E.B. White novel _Charlotte's Web,_ because in my head-canon the Hamalki name their human-friendly businesses after literary arachnids. (The Hamalki-owned music store on Centaurus, where Zoe worked during her winter vacation in my story _For Auld Lang Syne_ is named for another children's book, an obscure picture-book I had as a kid in the 1970's called _Sebastian's Web_. It's about a young spider who couldn't manage to spin an orderly web. I don't remember the author.)

As mentioned in the chapter header, this little excursion is sandwiched between actual episodes, and is not canon, though Bruce Maddox is, of course, a canon character. Professor Wire-Whiskers and Ch'm's (Chimes) are my own creations.

Special thanks to **Caroline** , **Selena** , and **saya4haji** (whose real name I don't know) for being awesome sounding boards. Thanks to all the people who left reviews, but weren't logged in, or are using guest accounts – I can't reply to you directly, but I totally would if I could. And, of course, thank you to all of you who stick with me even when it seems like forever between chapters.

 **ALSO:** Do any of you play _Star Trek: Timelines_? If so you might recognize the name [KM] Melysse from the top 15 on the leaderboards in most faction events. That's me, and I'd love to meet you in-game.


	8. Evidence of Things Not Seen

**Evidence of Things Not Seen**

 **Stardate 46307.24**

 **(Wednesday, 23 April 2369, 03:27 hours, ship's time)**

Geordi was waiting for us in the shuttle bay when Data piloted the _Descartes_ to a perfect landing right between the yellow lines painted on the deck, and he came to the ramp to greet us as soon as the entire space had been re-pressurized and the force-fields had been deactivated.

"Hey, Zoe," the affable engineer said to me. "Data. Welcome home. Good thing you decided to leave Hamal IV ahead of schedule. We've been called to the Tyrus system, and you almost didn't make the rendezvous."

Impulsively, I gave our friend a quick hug. "It's good to be back," I said. "Loving your beard, by the way." He'd started growing it a couple of weeks before, but in the time Data and I had been away it had become less of a really intense five o'clock shadow, and more of a respectable beard, and it really did look good on him.

Geordi grinned. "Thanks."

"It was Zoe's idea to cut our trip short," Data shared. He was pulling our luggage, but the three of us fell into step even so. "She said we had 'accomplished our mission' and I had to concur."

"We accomplished a lot more than that," I teased my partner. To both men, I continued, "Am I allowed to ask what's significant about the Tyrus system, or is it some super-secret Starfleet thing that I'm supposed to pretend I heard nothing about?" It was a valid question. More than once I'd been privy to information that, while not exactly classified, was certainly sensitive. I'd been getting better about learning to balance my own curiosity with the need to respect official channels, but it was an ongoing learning curve.

"It's not secret, Zo'," Geordi answered, chuckling. "There's a science team that's developed a new mining technique that uses a particle fountain, and we've – well – _I've_ – been asked to review it and recommend it for Starfleet use."

"Then, the team believes it is ready for use?" Data clarified. "I have been following their reports, and if the fountain works as intended it may revolutionize mining throughout the Federation."

"They've already completed the first set of field trials," Geordi explained. "Dr. Farallon is really pushing to have it evaluated as quickly as possible."

"Farallon?" I asked. "Like the islands?"

"I do not believe there is a connection, Zoe," Data answered, his voice devoid of any judgement, "as the doctor is not from Earth." To Geordi he queried, "When are we due to arrive at Tyrus VII?"

Geordi yawned his answer as we entered the turbo-lift. "Ohhhhhhhhh – sorry. Oh-nine hundred hours. Captain Picard asked me to have you report to the bridge at oh-eight hundred, so you've got time to settle."

The lift doors opened on deck eight, and Data and I exited, but not before my boyfriend said, "Thank you, Geordi. I will see you in a few hours." After the doors had closed again, and we'd started the walk to our quarters, he asked me, "Zoe, does Lasso expect you to report in today?"

I shook my head. "I have to let him know we're back, but he gave me the entire week. It's kind of slow in Protocol. Although, if the particle fountain is approved, the JAG officer might be doing something with patents and licensing." I wrinkled my nose, and added. "Contract law is _not_ my thing."

"And yet it is often the key to commerce, trade, and successful diplomatic relations between cultures," he pointed out.

"So it is," I agreed, refraining from pointing out that he wasn't required to be right about things before the ship's day watch actually started.

We entered our quarters and were promptly greeted by an orange ball of angry fur, teeth, and claws. "Spot!" Data's greeting to his cat (he insisted the creature was actually ours, but I kept denying it on principle) brightened his entire face and made me grin, too. "We have missed you."

"Speak for yourself, lover-mine," I teased lightly. "Do you need me for anything, because I'd kill for a few more hours of sleep."

"I do not understand why you refused to sleep in the shuttle on the way home."

"I did, some, but first I was wired from everything that happened during the conference, and then I was watching you." I'd already moved through to our bedroom, and was skinning off clothes, so my words were called back to him. "Your hands are very graceful on keyboards… and control pads… and violin strings… and…"

 _Reeeeeiaaaaoooowww!_ Spot streaked through our quarters and took up a position behind the pillows on our bed.

"… you." Unfazed by the cat's temporary defection, Data completed my sentence and joined me in the bedroom. "If you are still too 'wired' to sleep, I would be happy to demonstrate exactly what my hands can do to help soothe your mood."

I turned to consider his face, and found myself staring into the yellow eyes I loved so much. His pupils were dilated despite the fact that our room was brightly lit. "Oh, my god. You're still feeling it, aren't you?"

"Desire for you?" he confirmed. After I nodded, he explained, "It is not as… urgent… as it was when we were dancing, or even when we were in our hotel room, but it is still… _I_ am still experiencing the... feeling." He reached for me, caressing my shoulders with those elegant fingers of his, sliding my bra straps down and then reaching behind me to undo the hooks, and remove it completely. He kept one hand on my back as his other pulled my hair out of the pony-tail I'd stuck it in for travel. "You are beautiful, Zoe," he said, and kissed me.

Data's 'demonstration' was thorough. By the time he had finished, I was sated and sleepy, and drifting off to sleep with my head on the chest of one incredibly smug android. The subtle _thrum_ of his internal systems was better than a lullaby, and when he finally left our bed a few minutes before he had to be on the bridge, I was barely awake enough to enjoy his goodbye kiss.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46311.24**

 **(Thursday, 24 April 2369, 14:28 hours, ship's time)**

With Data monitoring the Tyran particle beam project from the bridge, and nothing going on in the Protocol office, I found myself with a little too much down time.

Fortunately, it was a slow time for Counselor Troi as well, so we were indulging in a mid-afternoon break in Ten-Forward.

"… and now I'm terrified," I told her between bites of chocolate orange mousse and sips of cappuccino. "I mean, I'm thrilled that he's _feeling,_ but what if it causes a cascade failure like what happened with Lal? What if it's another 'gift' from Lore? What if – "

"What if Data has simply reached a point in his own development where organic emotions are beginning to emerge?"

"Is that even possible?"

"You never actually met Lal, did you?"

I shook my head. "Data made… he took a bunch of his memories and video from common areas of the ship and sort of cobbled together his version of home movies for me, but, we never met, no. I only know bits and pieces of what happened"

Troi sat back in her chair. "You should probably be asking Data about it…" she began. "And I'm probably the worst person to help you understand, but I'll try."

"Thank you."

"Data didn't tell any of us he was creating Lal. He came back from a conference and locked himself in his lab every minute he wasn't on duty. When we finally learned what he had been doing, it was the day he brought Lal to the holodeck to choose a permanent appearance."

"I knew he'd let her choose," I said. "What am I missing?"

"Her brain was essentially a copy of his own. When Admiral Haftel threatened to take her away she began manifesting fear…" She let the rest of the story unwind, giving me details I'd never thought to ask from Data, or that it hadn't occurred to him to share with me.

"Wait a minute," I said, interrupting. "Dee, if Lal's neural net was a copy of Data's, and she could experience emotion, how come Data can't? Or… couldn't… I guess?"

Troi's already-dark eyes seemed blacker than I'd ever seen them. "I have no idea, Zoe. I'm a psychologist, not a cyberneticist." She smiled, then, and forced a brighter mood. "So, what else happened at the conference? Did you manage to have some fun?"

"You think having my android lover experiencing intense desire for the first time wasn't fun?" I asked, indulging in a truly wicked smile. "But… aside from that? I met a bunch of really interesting people who weren't at _all_ the socially awkward science nerds I'd been expecting." I let my smile soften a bit. "Data's been holding out on us. He has _friends_. In fact, he has friends that include talking house-cats, giant glass spiders, and Vulcan-Orion femme-fatales. Or is that femmes fatale? I'm never sure."

"It's 'femmes fatale,'" Deanna confirmed in an off-handed manner, but she was really stuck on the first part of my statement. "Talking house-cats?"

"Oh. Yes. One of his cohorts is an Eeiauoan. Whiskers. Well, Professor Wire-whiskers. He teaches at Yale, actually, and I think I managed to impress him enough to get into his class."

Deanna laughed. "I assume the 'giant glass spider' was Hamalki?"

"Yes. Chimes. It sounds like a duo from a fantasy novel, doesn't it? 'Whiskers and Chimes, Purveyors of Obscure Artifacts and Providers of Deep Wisdom.'" Letting my snarkier side out to play a little made me feel a bit more settled, as if I'd been on good behavior for too long and was finally released from restraint.

"Whiskers and Chimes," she repeated. "It sounds like you've made friends as well."

"I think I have," I said. I leaned across the table to stage whisper, "I even joined their poker game. Don't tell Will."

I could tell that she was fighting not to laugh, but she swallowed the urge and matched my tone as Deanna promised with mock-gravity. "I won't breathe a word."

We talked about other things for the next half hour – current fashion trends on Betazed and Earth, among the topics – and then the counselor excused herself to meet a patient, and I went to the one formal class I still had since technically finishing high school almost ten days before: private lessons in Vulcan language and culture. If I'd known that there would be a tea ceremony, I probably would have limited myself to only one cappuccino.

 **(=A=)**

Data was still out when I finally returned to our quarters, so I fed Spot and played with her for a few minutes while I considered the events of the previous weekend, and my conversation with Deanna. Moving behind Data's workstation – the workstation he kept reminding me I was welcome to use - I opened the drawer where he stored data-solids, all of which were neatly labeled in his precise, angular script.

Most of the labels were stardate and time indices, and would make sense only to him, but one was labeled with the stardate that corresponded with January, 2368, and a single word: Lal. I removed it from its slot in the drawer and just held it in my hand for a minute or two, considering.

When Data had initially shown me these files – the 'home movies' I'd mentioned to Troi – he'd projected them through the entertainment system. I didn't need to see life-sized reproductions of the man I loved and the daughter he'd lost – not that day – so I inserted it into the appropriate port on the computer, and let it play on the monitor, instead.

Most of the images were familiar to me from my initial viewing, but I felt like I was seeing them with new eyes. I paid more attention to Data and Lal were saying – to other people and between themselves. I noticed that Wesley Crusher had been invited to help her develop hand-eye coordination, and felt a pang of something like jealousy. _But you weren't even friends then,_ I reminded myself. _You didn't even properly introduce yourself to Data until after she'd already died._

When I'd watched these video clips with my partner over a year before, it had made me see him in a new light. I'd recognized that parental part of him, but I'd also perceived him as being older – being truly _adult_ \- in ways even his colleagues never seemed to acknowledge.

On second viewing, solo viewing, I was reminded of those initial observations, but I also realized that Data's urge to procreate hadn't been entirely about continuing his father's work, but about being less isolated, less… lonely. (I resolved to figure out a way to make him realize he was no longer alone.)

I indulged myself in a brief fantasy of how things might have been if I had been in Data's sphere at that time. He would still have been my teacher, but that's likely all he would have been. If Lal hadn't suffered catastrophic cascade failure, if she hadn't died, Data wouldn't have been available to give me private music theory lessons. I wouldn't have been the one to coax him out of solitude when he'd realized he'd wanted Kivas Fajo to die, and I wouldn't have spent all night in the cockpit of a shuttlecraft sipping tea and chatting with him while my classmates and our chaperones slept in the aft compartment.

I replayed the video, watching their interaction again, and noticing the way their mannerisms were the same, and also where Lal's physicality differed from that of her father. His head-tilt was absolutely his own, for example, but their 'processing' expressions were eerily similar.)

I'd recently confessed to my mother that I had thought about Data and me having a family of our own someday, and for the first time I thought about it as an eventual reality and not an abstract possibility. Would our children be organic, either adopted, or created from donated sperm, or would Data build another android child? And if he did, could I be a mother to such a being? Would an android even _need_ a second parent? Would I be of any use?

It was a lot to think about.

I was about a third of the way through my fourth viewing when Data came home. "Computer, pause playback," I instructed, and the sound and images froze. "Hey, love. Glad you're home."

Data gave me one of his trademark appraising looks. "Thank you, Zoe," he replied. He leaned over the workstation and greeted me with a kiss. "Am I interrupti – oh." He had registered what was on the monitor, and his tone flattened slightly.

"It's okay that I'm watching this, isn't it? I asked. "I mean, you initially made the videos to show me, but… I feel like I should have asked you first." I searched his face for some – any – reaction.

"There is no need for you to seek permission, Zoe. The videos are as much yours as they are mine. If you wish, I will let you finish…"

I ended the playback and ejected the data-solid, returning it to the drawer. "I'm actually done," I said. "I mean, I saw what I needed to see. I'm glad you're home though; I was half-expecting you to comm and tell me we had to reschedule date night because you were tied up with this mission."

"My chief responsibility has been to monitor the status of the work on the fountain," Data explained. "As everything is going well, there is no need for me to put in extra hours."

I left his chair, and moved around the console to claim a less perfunctory kiss. "So, do you have anything exciting planned for date night, or are we just going to wing it?"

"I did not plan anything specific. Is there something you would particularly enjoy?"

I grinned up at him. "A walk on the beach of Erisia IV might be fun, but you're not really 'beach guy.' Lasso recommended that we try one of the Concert in the Park scenarios. Maybe Central Park in New York, followed by a carriage ride?" I stepped closer, invading his personal space and pressing against him. "We could do naughty things under the lap blanket…" I teased.

Data's arms came around me and he nuzzled my hair. "We do not need a holodeck program to do 'naughty' things, dearest, but I am amenable to the rest of your suggestion."

I laughed and kissed the tip of his nose. "I need a few minutes to freshen up."

 **(=A=)**

The concert we chose was a twenty-first century quartet called Bond that played a mix of classical and contemporary-for-them music on electric versions of the typical Terran strings. I was most intrigued by the fact that the cellist had a harness for her instrument, which she played standing up, and even dancing.

"Think I could do that?" I asked "If I had a carbon-fiber cello. Maybe we should reimagine our quartet as something a little more _avant-garde_." I was only half teasing.

Data, looking surprisingly comfortable on the replicated beach blanket that separated us from the cool grass. "You are quite capable of playing that style of cello, should you choose to attempt it, but I think our quartet is better suited to a purely classical aesthetic."

"Spoilsport," I teased, throwing a few blades of grass at him.

His response was to tilt his head slightly, as if he were considering an appropriate response. Finally, he said, "Perhaps." Then he gestured to the picnic I'd asked him to program. "You have not eaten enough."

I rolled my eyes at him, but picked up a container of pasta salad and ate a few forkfuls, turning my attention back to the musicians on the stage. When the concert ended, we packed the remains of our picnic back into the basket, layering our blanket on top. Data carried it out of the amphitheater to where horse-drawn carriages were waiting.

"We don't have to do this part, if you don't want to," I said. "I just wanted something easy and romantic tonight."

"I have never been on such a ride," Data told me. "I am looking forward to the experience."

I smiled at him, "Alright then."

I climbed into the carriage and accepted the picnic basket, placing it on the seat across from mine, while Data negotiated with the driver for an hour-long ride. In reality, of course, the program we were using would interpret the 'negotiation' as instructions to the computer to provide the appropriate route and length of simulation, but growing up in theatre made me an expert on the willful suspension of disbelief. Once we were settled against the velvet cushions, with the lap blanket keeping away the evening chill, and my partner's arm around my shoulders, it felt like a real carriage in a real city.

We were both quiet for the first several minutes of our starlit tour of old New York, but I knew Data had been quietly stewing about the video I'd been watching earlier, and it didn't take long for him to ask, "Zoe, may I know what you were looking for in the 'home movies' of my daughter?"

He rarely referred to Lal by anything other than her name. That he was highlighting the relationship was both heartwarming and worrisome. "I don't suppose you'd believe that I just like watching you be all paternal?" I wasn't being _very_ snarky, really.

"Is that what you were doing?"

I sighed, and snuggled closer to him for reassurance. "No, not really. I mean… I do enjoy seeing that aspect of your personality, but… I was looking to see if I could recognize the early signs of cascade failure."

"This is a reaction to our weekend." It wasn't a question.

"Yes," I admitted. "As I said, I'm thrilled for you – for us, really – because you experiencing desire – or any emotion – is a gift to me, too, but, I'm also terrified. You said you would do a self-diagnostic when we got home, and we've been home for a week now and…"

"There were no faults found," he interrupted softly.

"So, you ran it and didn't tell me?"

His answer came after a brief hesitation. "I… yes."

"Hmph." I looked away from him.

"Zoe, I would have informed you if there had been anything wrong. I assumed you understood that."

I looked back at him. "I assumed _you_ understood that I needed to know." More quietly, I added, "I would have liked to be there." I waited a beat then continued at a more normal volume. "You and Geordi both have this misconception that seeing your machine-y insides or observing you doing something specific to your android nature _bothers_ me, and that's not at all true. The first time I saw the inside of your arm during my lesson – what was it? Two years ago? – I was uncomfortable because I felt like it was an intimacy I hadn't earned. I thought I'd explained that." But as soon as I said it, I realized that I'd explained it to Deanna and to Geordi but never to him. "Oh… I guess I never explained it to _you_."

"No," he matched my earlier quiet tone. "You did not."

"I love you," I reminded him. "Data, I love all of you. Android. Officer. Musician. Painter. Lover. Cat-owner. They're all just parts of the whole. If I didn't, do you think I'd be sharing your bed, or seriously discussing marriage, or dreaming about someday having a family of our own?"

For a long moment, the only sounds were the muted noises of the city around us, and the rhythmic clip-clop of the black Percheron pulling our carriage.

It was Data who broke the silence, though he used the arm draped around my shoulders to pull me even closer to him, and nuzzled my hair before he spoke. "You know I cannot sire biological children with you."

"I know."

"However, if you ever wish to experience all aspects of motherhood, I would have no objection to using a sperm bank or requesting that one of our friends donate – "

I cut him off, "I was actually assuming that you'd be ready to try again, with another android child one day."

Data's response came in a tone tinged with wonder. "You would be willing to mother an android child?"

"I'm not sure how much use I'd be… but yes, I would. Wouldn't you be willing to be a father to a biological child?"

"Yes, of course, Zoe."

"We're years - and I do mean _years_ – away from becoming parents, Data, but whether we have children that are built or born, we'd be raising them together."

We could have continued talking; it was rare, after all, for either of us to be at a loss for words, but it seemed more appropriate to settle back against the plush seat of the carriage, rest my head against my partner's shoulder, and enjoy the gentle pace of the horse, the music of the city, and the starlight on a spring evening.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46314.04**

 **(Friday, 25 April 2369, 15:02 hours, ship's time)**

"Zoe, thank you so much!" Keiko gushed when I arrived at her quarters on Friday afternoon. "Are you sure you don't mind helping out?"

"Hey, I volunteered, remember? What do you need me to do?"

"You volunteered to watch her while we packed, not to give us an evening off."

"I'm pretty sure it was both," I said.

"But I hate to take a night away from you and Data."

"It's really not a problem," I said. "We typically do date night on Thursdays, anyway."

Keiko grinned. "Date night?"

"Originally… before we admitted we were actually dating, we would hang out in his quarters after quartet rehearsal and sip tea and watch videos. We still do that most weeks, but every so often we do something a little more festive, and we – well _he_ – started calling it 'date night.'"

"So, last night…?" she let the question trail off suggestively.

I laughed. "Concert in New York's central park and then a ride in a horse-drawn carriage."

"Your idea, no doubt."

"Mmm. This time, yes, but Data's suggestions can be surprisingly romantic. He has this program of an intimate club in Paris that he used to teach me to tango last year."

"Data taught you to…. Was he any good?"

"Oh, I never tango and tell. Now, you have a sleeping daughter and a date night of your own to get ready for. Do you have a bathtub?" She nodded, and I continued, "Good. Go soak for half an hour, and then we'll find you an outfit that will make Miles's eyes pop out of his head and his curly hair turn straight."

"You have no idea how much I appreciate this," my friend again. "I can't remember the last time I could take a bath without being interrupted."

"Oh, I can imagine," I assured her. "Now scoot. I'll keep an ear out for Molly."

But the baby – though at fourteen months old she was almost a proper toddler - slept for the entire two hours it took us to get ready, waking just when Keiko was preparing her dinner. At eighteen hundred hours, Miles and Data arrived together, and after the doting parents gave us the rundown of how playtime and bath time and bedtime should go, made us promise to comm if there was any problem 'no matter how insignificant,' and kissed their daughter goodbye no fewer than fifteen times, my boyfriend and I settled in for an evening of babysitting.

A round of ball, a bath that saw Data and me getting as wet as the baby – if not wetter – and two stories later (they were short – mostly pictures) Molly was asleep again, and Data and I were sharing replicated vegetarian moussaka at the O'Briens' table.

"I had not realized that one small human could be so much work," he observed.

"I used to babysit Charlie Simmons, but mostly I was helping Gran do it, not actually doing all the hard work," I remembered. "Molly was actually pretty good, but she's known you all her life and me most of it… she accepts us as family. You are her honorary uncle, after all."

"I am fairly certain some of her babbling included the words 'Auntie Zoe,' as well," Data countered. "Still, most of my experience with babysitting her – with or without you – has been limited to listening in case she woke from a nap."

"And?" I asked, half-teasing. "Did tonight make you change your mind about being a father to a human child of our own someday?"

But if his thoughts on the matter _had_ changed, I didn't hear about it that night, because just as we'd relocated to the couch to kill the remaining time until Keiko and Miles were due home, Data was called to the bridge to monitor an issue with the particle fountain.

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"I'm good," I said. "Promise." We shared a brief kiss, and he left. Good thing Starfleet uniforms were made of wicking fabric. He didn't even look damp.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46315.31**

 **(Saturday, 26 April 2369, 02:07 hours, ship's time)**

I was still awake and reading in bed when Data got home only because I'd ended up napping while I was still watching Molly.

"Everything okay?" I asked, as he came through to our bedroom.

"There was a problem with the power grid on the particle fountain, but it has been repaired. Dr. Farallon has apparently created a device that helps facilitate such repairs. Geordi has asked me to join them in the lab to review that part of the project."

"Now?" I asked.

"No. Everyone is taking several hours to rest, and I will be transporting to the lab with Geordi at zero eight hundred." He paused. "I was not expecting you to be awake."

"If you have things to do it's fine," I said. "If you want to join me, I think I'm tired enough to sleep now."

He stripped and slid into bed, waiting for me to settle against him before he ordered the computer to extinguish the lights, and his presence was just what I needed to slide into a restful sleep.

I was still asleep when Data left again in the morning, but he'd left a message reminding me that I likely wouldn't see him until late that evening.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46316.98**

 **(Saturday, 26 April 2369, 16:47 hours, ship's time)**

"I cannot believe you managed that dive," I said to Dana as we walked into my quarters. With my high school days behind me, I was no longer meeting Ray Barnett for swimming every Sunday afternoon, and my best friend and I had spent one of our last free Saturdays at the pool for pure recreation.

All too soon, she and her father would be leaving to visit family before she started classes at the Rhode Island School of Design, and at some point during the next few months, Data and I would also be taking a vacation, one that would end with him dropping me at Yale.

"I'm surprised you didn't," she shot back. "Aren't you supposed to be the queen of the waves?" She was teasing me, of course.

"Only when it comes to surfing and sailing. With diving, I'm just okay."

"Actually," Dana said, "it's sort of reassuring that you don't do everything well."

"Oh, please." I rolled my eyes at her. "I can't draw to save my life and you're an artist. I live with a man who can create photo-realistic paintings at the drop of a hat, and your Lit scores were always just a little bit better than mine." I took a breath. "Okay, let's go find a dress for you."

Dana had recently rekindled her relationship with Ethan "Loverboy" Lovejoy, and he'd planned a special date for her that night. "I love that red dress of yours, but I'm concerned it's too severe for my coloring."

My friend was a classic Nordic blonde, and she was probably correct about the red not going well with her coloring. "Mmm. How do you feel about deep blue or eggplant."

"Eggplant… the vegetable?"

"The color. Aubergine. Eggplant. That deep earthy purple…"

"You _have_ a dress that color?"

"Hi, have you met me? I live for clothes."

"You live for _jeans_ ," Dana corrected.

In truth, my wardrobe had morphed over the past two years. While I still had a healthy collection of jeans and vintage t-shirts, I'd embraced the need for a more sophisticated style, first while I'd been with Idyllwild, and since then, because of things like the conference Data and I had recently attended.

"Confession?" I asked, and after the other woman nodded, I shared, "When I was in San Francisco last summer, my agent made me work with a stylist. I might have enjoyed the process a little too much." I was already sorting through my side of the closet, looking for the eggplant dress I'd worn on Hamal IV; I knew I'd had it cleaned.

Dana laughed, "Of course you did." She hesitated a moment, then asked, a bit shyly, "You really have an agent?"

"Oh, yeah. And a manager and a publicist. And I'm not even working until summer – if then – Data and I still haven't discussed it. Although, I took the equivalency test, so technically I _could_ take a job if it was the right one."

"But you don't want to leave the ship until you have to," she said, with her typical insight.

"No," I agreed. "I really don't. Aha! Found it." I pulled out the aubergine dress. "Here, try this on. You can go into the bathroom if you're feeling modest."

"Into Data's bathroom?" she asked, squeaking slightly.

I rolled my eyes at her. "It's my bathroom too, and seriously, Dana, it's _just_ a bathroom. Data showers and brushes his teeth just like the rest of us."

" _So_ did not need the image of my math teacher in the shower." But she disappeared into the other room, anyway.

The door to our quarters opened while Dana was changing, and I went out to the living room to greet my partner. "You're home earl – " I began, but I noticed the problem-solving expression on his face, and that he was carrying a device about the size of a medium dog. "What's with K-9?"

Despite his preoccupation with his project, Data brushed a kiss across my lips. He'd known me long enough, by then, to understand the reference I'd made. "This is not a cybernetic pet," he explained as he moved behind his workstation and set it down on the desk. "It is an exocomp." At my blank look he elaborated, "It is the device Dr. Farallon created to assist with repairs and construction of the particle fountain."

"Is there something wrong with it?" I asked.

"I am uncertain. It appears to be defective, however…"

"… you think something else is going on. Just so you know, Dana's here borrowing an outfit from me for a date tonight, but she'll be leaving in a few minutes. If you want me to leave also, I can make myself scarce."

"That is unnecessary, Zoe. This is our home, and I would not have brought the exocomp here if I wished to keep my theory confidential."

"Theory?"

"I will explain after I run a few tests."

"Gotcha. I'm going to go check on Dana."

"Very well."

I returned to the bedroom, making sure the door closed behind me. Dana was just emerging, and I had a moment of satisfaction: she looked amazing in that purple dress. Possibly better than I had.

"Oh, my god, Zoe! This is fantastic!" The blonde woman was positively gushing. "Are you sure you don't mind me borrowing it?"

I shook my head. "I wouldn't have offered in the first place if I minded. Do you have jewelry and shoes? You look gorgeous, by the way. Ethan's eyes may pop out of their sockets."

She spun in front of the full-length mirror that was in the corner of the room. "I love it," she said. "I absolutely love it." Then she pulled me into an impulsive embrace. "Thank you times a million."

"You're welcome," I said. "Are you wearing it home, or…?"

"No, I'm afraid if I do I'll get it dirty."

I grinned. "I know the feeling. Well, just so you know, Data's back, and working, but he's aware you're here, so don't worry that he'll walk in, or anything."

"Hmph," my friend responded, albeit with good humor. Then she returned to the bathroom to change.

We kept our voices low as we left the bedroom, and walked toward the door, even though we were both aware Data could hear every word we were saying. In fact, he surprised us by looking up, and offering my friend a brief nod. "Zoe informed me that you had a date tonight. I hope you enjoy your evening."

Blushing faintly, Dana said, "Thank you, sir." As the door to the corridor opened she whispered to me, "Lunch Monday?"

"Definitely," I said. "I expect a detailed report."

We both giggled as she left, and the door _swooshed_ closed again. "Sorry about that," I said to Data. "Will I be in the way if I watch what you're doing?"

"Not at all," came his prompt answer, even though his attention was mostly on the readouts on his screen.

Asking to watch was partly my way of expressing interest in his work, and partly my offer to serve as a sounding board, should one be needed. I replicated a mug of tea and a plate of fruit, cheese, and crackers, and made myself comfortable on the couch. In between commands to the computer, Data explained a bit more about what he was doing.

"Computer, perform a level one diagnostic of this exocomp's command module," he instructed. To me, he said, "Last night, the exocomps were able to complete repairs to the particle fountain's power grid in less time than a team of engineers would have needed to correct the same error. Since then, we have put them through a battery of tests, at Dr. Farallon's request."

 _\- The command pathways are functioning normally._

"How can that be, if the interface circuitry is burned out?" Data asked, addressing the computer again.

"So, Dr. Farallon wants Starfleet to approve her exocomps so that she can continue to use them for the more delicate aspects of her work with the fountain?"

"More delicate, and more dangerous," Data confirmed, with a troubled note in his voice. He was about to say more when the computer spit out its result.

 _\- The interface circuitry has been repaired._

"Curious." I wasn't certain if Data's response was meant for the computer or me, or if he was talking to himself, something he did from time to time. "Computer, access the exocomp's sensor logs. Confirm that there was a failure of the interface circuitry within the last twelve hours."

"You seem bothered by the way they're being used. Why?"

 _\- Confirmed. Interface failure occurred at eleven hundred fifty hours today, when the exocomp produced a power surge that burned out the linkage._

"One moment," Data said to me. "Computer, how and when was the interface repaired?"

 _\- The exocomp activated a self-repair program at thirteen hundred forty hours._

"Why would the exocomp burn out its own interface circuitry and repair it two hours later?" I could tell Data's question was rhetorical that time, but it made me smile when the computer answered anyway.

 _\- Unknown_.

Data was silent for several seconds, scanning readouts, and then disengaging the connections from the exocomp to his console. I picked up my padd and started reading a novel to give him the space he apparently needed. I didn't even realize he'd moved until the couch shifted slightly as he sat down.

"Zoe?"

Even though he'd only uttered the two syllables of my name, there was something in his tone that went right to my heart. "What is it? What's troubling you?"

His brow wrinkled slightly, and his face seemed, not young, exactly, but vulnerable somehow. "You accept that I am more than just a… a tool – that I am _alive_ – do you not?"

I put the padd aside, and changed my position slightly on the couch so I could meet his eyes. "There is no question. You're a person, and you're alive. Why do you ask?"

"If that is so, then, with the exception of Lore, I am alone in the universe. Or… that is what I have always believed."

"You don't believe that any more." I made it a statement.

"No, Zoe. I do not. I believe the exocomps may be alive, but I am not certain."

"Wow," I said. "Data, that's big." I was quiet, digesting what he'd said. "But… how do you determine what is or isn't alive, when it comes to something someone built?"

"I am uncertain of that as well."

I reached for his hand, squeezed it, and let it go. "Maybe you should check with someone whose whole business is life and death."

"I do not understand."

"Ask a doctor."

"Ah… I believe I will do that. Thank you, Zoe." He got up to leave, but I called his name before he left our quarters. "Yes?"

I left the couch, crossed the room, and cupped his face in my hands. "You may be a rare creature, Data, but you are not alone. You have me. Always." I kissed him, trying to make him perceive the love for him, and faith in him, that I was feeling. His arms encircled my waist and he matched my kiss, then pulled away, and touched his forehead to mine. We remained in that position for several seconds, and then we broke apart. "Let me know what you determine?"

"I will. Thank you, Zoe."

Spot came out of wherever she'd been hiding, and mewed at the door Data had just gone through.

"Well, Catling, it's just you and me tonight," I told her, as I returned to the replicator to get her food. I placed her dish in her preferred location, and she ate it, then looked at me with an expression that conveyed just how unimpressive she thought I was.

I just laughed and went to take a bath.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46318.28**

 **(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 04:13 hours, ship's time)**

Data had returned to our quarters to collect the exocomp while I was in the bathtub, promising to keep me in the loop as much as he could. He'd contacted me every two hours between eight pm and midnight with updates: a meeting of the senior staff, a meeting of the senior staff with Dr. Farallon, a trip back to the particle fountain lab to run an experiment with an exocomp, which it failed, a request for more time, and then he'd retreated to the engineering test lab, determined to prove his theory.

"Data, are you sure – are you really sure – this is worth the effort you're putting in?" I'd asked him during that last comm call.

 _\- "I do not know how to measure the 'worth' of a possibility. I only know that I believe my hypothesis is correct, despite the earlier failure, and I must continue."_

"Can I help?"

 _\- "There is little to do but wait, at this time. I am reassessing the parameters of the test scenario, and will inform you if anything changes. In the meantime, I suggest you get some rest."_

"I'm actually in bed with tea and a book, though Spot thinks she should be the one to turn the pages. I'll go to sleep soon. Promise."

 _\- "I will endeavor not to wake you, unless there is definitive news."_

"That's fair. I love you."

 _\- "And I am devoted to you, Zoe. Good night."_

He'd cut the comm signal right after that, and I'd tried to refocus on my book, but had finally given up and turned out the lights.

I woke up four hours later, to find that Data still wasn't home. "Computer, tell me the location of Lt. Commander Data," I called into the air. I remembered finding such things weird, or at least novel, when I'd first come aboard the _Enterprise_. Three years later, asking a disembodied voice for information had become commonplace.

 _\- Lieutenant Commander Data is in Engineering Test Laboratory Two._

So, he was still working, then. I knew I shouldn't interrupt him, but I felt like he might need me there. Also, I was curious about the tests he was doing. I got out of bed, pulled on jeans and a Yale sweatshirt and slid my feet into my trusty purple combat boots while twisting my hair into a messy knot at the base of my skull. "Be good," I said to Spot. Then I left.

Main Engineering was dimly lit and sparsely populated during the night watch, but I knew it would be bright and bustling in an hour or two. I saw a tired looking Robin Lefler, who gave me a slight wave. I returned the gesture and moved down the corridor to the test lab. As I approached, I heard my lover's voice in conversation with someone else who sounded familiar.

"… not the molecular fuser it had when it entered the Jeffries tube," Data was saying. "Doctor, the exocomp not only completed the repairs, it also deactivated the overload signal."

The voice I now recognized as Beverly Crusher's responded, "I thought this was just a simulation."

I moved closer, but waited for them to finish their conversation.

"It was, and the exocomp must have realized that. It saw that there was no real danger, and completed the repairs…"

"… and then replicated the correct tool to eliminate the false overload signal."

"I see no other possible explanation." Data's voice had the slight note of satisfaction I'd learned he often exhibited when he'd successfully completed a project.

Dr. Crusher's tone was laced with something else – something like surprise or wonder. "The exocomp didn't fail the test, it saw right through it." I must have moved or made a noise because both officers turned toward me. "Late night, Zoe?" The doctor seemed slightly amused.

"Well, I heard there was a party in test lab two, and I didn't want to miss it," I snarked. "Did I hear what I think I heard? Did you prove your theory, Data?"

"Yes, Zoe; I believe I have."

"So, what's the appropriate response? Shouting 'it's alive!' a la Dr. Frankenstein seems a bit over the top. And while 'congratulations, it's an exocomp' is better, I neglected to bring balloons or cigars."

The doctor laughed. "On that note," she said, "I'm heading to bed. Data, I'm sure I'll see you in a few hours. Zoe… try to get some sleep? Just because you're dating an android, doesn't mean you are one." She patted my shoulder on her way out of the lab.

I refocused on my partner. "Before you go all officer-y on me, I know civilians aren't supposed to be in engineering without permission. I haven't disrupted anyone's work, and I'll leave in a minute if you tell me to, but I wanted – no - I _needed_ to be here."

"That restriction is a discretionary one, Zoe, meant as a safety measure. You are welcome here any time, unless there is an emergent situation."

"Good to know," I smiled. "So, what exactly does it mean that they're alive?"

"It means that I cannot allow them to be used in ways that will lead to their destruction," Data said.

I had a feeling he was talking about the mission, but I didn't ask for details. Instead, I corrected him. "Death. Not Destruction. Things that are alive aren't 'destroyed,' they _die_." I think he realized that I was referring to him, more than the exocomps.

"As you say, Zoe," he agreed, but there was something off about his tone.

"I'm guessing that a concluded experiment doesn't mean you're coming home for a few hours?" I made it a question.

"No, I am afraid not."

I nodded. "Okay. Well, come home when you can."

"Of course, Zoe." He leaned close, nuzzled my hair for a moment – something he would never have done if engineering hadn't been essentially deserted - and kissed me gently. "Please try to sleep?"

"I'll try," I promised. I turned away, and left him there in the engineering test lab.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46319.52**

 **(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 15:04 hours, ship's time)**

Late afternoon found me antsy and worried, and inventing scenario after scenario in my head. I'd kept my promise to Data and gone back to bed after leaving him in engineering, but Spot had no respect for my lack of sleep, and woke me at eight demanding breakfast. Then I'd had a subspace call from my father, and another from Annette.

At ten-thirty, I set the comm-system to hold all calls, turned off all the lights, and went back to bed _again_ , because I'd developed a headache. I managed to sleep – albeit fitfully – until thirteen hundred hours, and then I'd chugged a large glass of water with a replicated analgesic, taken a shower, dressed in something I'd more likely wear for a day in the Protocol office than on a lazy Sunday, and wandered to Ten-Forward with a novel.

I ordered a salmon and spinach omelet a pot of mint tea and tried to read, but all around me, people were talking about there being a power surge with the particle fountain, and that Captain Picard had joined Geordi at the lab to see things for himself.

Data, I knew, was on the bridge. He'd called me to check in just before I'd left our quarters. Unasked, was the question about whether I'd slept. Unspoken, was that he was as worried about me as I was about him.

"You look like a woman who needs company." Guinan had appeared near my table, seemingly manifesting out of air.

"You're probably right," I admitted. "I mean, people don't _really_ come here to be alone, do they?"

"No, they don't. Your tea smells delicious. Do you mind if I join you?"

I shook my head. "Not at all." She signaled one of her staff, who arrived with an empty mug and left with my empty plate. "Shall I pour?" I asked.

"Please do." I filled her mug and topped off my own. "This mission is troubling you."

I signed. "Yeah, a little. Not so much the particle fountain but… have you actually met Dr. Farallon, the Tyran scientist in charge of the project?"

"I saw a Tyran woman in here with Geordi yesterday," Guinan told me, "but we didn't really meet. Why?"

"I just wondered. I haven't met her either, but I know Data was really intrigued by her project even before we arrived. Now, though, he's become interested in these service robots she designed. Apparently, he's decided they're alive."

"And you doubt him?" The bartender's tone held no judgement, only curiosity.

"That's just it; I don't doubt him. He told me he _believes_ they're alive." Guinan didn't do anything but sip her tea and maintain an air of Listening to me, but I had the distinct impression she knew the weight of that word coming from my partner. "I'm just feeling woefully inadequate. I don't know the right words to say – how to talk to him about this. 'Oh, cool,' isn't exactly a meaningful response, you know?"

"Maybe words aren't what he needs."

"What else can I possibly offer?"

Guinan took another sip of tea, and it was as if she was analyzing every nuance of the peppermint flavor, cataloguing the ratio of sweetness, and memorizing the precise note of green herbal undertones. Inwardly, I shrugged. Maybe she was.

"You and Data are both talkers, so it might seem like words are the obvious means of supporting one another, but your relationship is more than the conversations you have. What about it grounds you?"

Following the other woman's lead, I took a moment to truly appreciate my own next sip of tea before I spoke. I breathed in the sharp mint and let it roll through my senses, then I took the warm liquid – it was no longer truly hot – into my mouth and savored every element. I'd added honey, and it was like drinking a mild, soothing, candy cane.

"The quiet times," I said. "You're right; we are talkers, but what we always come back to is just being together. Nights when he's working at his console and I'm reading on the couch, and we aren't talking, just… sharing space, but, vibrating on the same frequency."

"And right now, you feel out of tune."

"I feel like he's shutting me out. This mission isn't classified, and the exocomp experiments are a side-thing, a personal project. I went down to the engineering test lab this morning just as he was confirming his theory and Dr. Crusher was there, and I… I didn't know what to say to him. He thinks the fact that the exocomps are alive mean he's not alone in the universe, and I don't… I told him he wasn't alone, because he had me, but…"

"But you're realizing that there are nuances to the definitions of 'alone.'"

"Something like that," I admitted.

She opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted by the chirp of a comm-badge. _My_ comm-badge.

"Go for Zoe," I said after tapping it.

 _\- Ms. Harris, please report to the Conference Room One. Commander Riker requires your presence._ I recognized the voice as Lt. Worf's. I guess Will knew I wasn't likely to argue with the Klingon security chief.

I shared a look with Guinan, shrugged, then responded, echoing the words I'd heard Data utter more than once. "On my way."

I was suddenly glad I hadn't resorted to my usual weekend attire of a t-shirt and jeans.

 **(=A=)**

Conference Room One was the bridge-level conference room. It was where I'd sat – twice – after encounters with Lore. I was sure that Lore wasn't involved this time, but I couldn't fathom why Will Riker wanted to see me – formally – in the middle of a mission.

The conversation in process when I stepped into the corridor just outside the door gave me some context.

"Data, those are two of your friends out there," I heard Will say, his tone firm, but with a pleading undercurrent. "They've saved your life more times than I can remember. I can't believe you'd be willing to sacrifice them like this."

That Data didn't immediately respond with the precise number of times he'd been rescued by the people Riker was referring to told me how serious the situation was. Instead, his answer was spoken in a measured tone. "Commander, please do not think this is an arbitrary decision. I have considered the ramifications of my actions carefully, and I do not believe it is justifiable to sacrifice one life form for another."

"You don't know that the exocomps are life forms," Riker challenged.

"It is true I am acting on my personal beliefs, but I do not see how I can do otherwise." Data was still calm, still rational. I moved slightly to try and see his expression, his body language, and my breath caught in my throat. To Will, he probably looked normal, but I could see that he'd pulled himself back, made his presence smaller. I wondered if he was aware at how much his vulnerability was showing.

"You're risking a lot on the basis of a belief," Will continued.

Data's next sentences were uttered in a tone that brought me back to the days when I was sitting across from him in his math tutorial. "I have observed that humans often base their judgments on what is referred to as 'instinct' or 'intuition.' Because I am a machine, I lack that particular ability. However, it may be possible that I have insight into other machines that humans lack."

"He has to." I blurted the words without thinking, and both officers turned to me. "I mean, he must have. Insight into other machines. How could you not?" My last four words were directed toward the man I loved.

"Zoe, you should not be here," Data said, a look of concern flitting across his features.

"I asked her here," Will - no, Commander Riker – told him. The first officer addressed me. "You know about his obsession with the exocomps?"

I glanced at my partner, and let my worry for _him_ take over my expression. Softly, I said. "I'm not sure obsession is the correct word, sir, but I know Data believes them to be alive."

"Do you also know that Captain Picard and Commander LaForge are at the particle lab, and it's about to blow?"

"I heard people talking about them being off-ship, Commander, but I didn't know the details about the fountain."

"Well, they are. We can't send a shuttle. We can't risk the ship that close. We cannot safely beam them out of the lab. We _can_ transport the exocomps into the particle stream to interrupt it, but Mr. Data has locked out the transporters. You're my last-ditch effort. Make him see reason."

I bit back the snarky response that would only have made things worse and in my best firm tone I said, "I'm sorry, Commander Riker, I can't do that."

My use of his title caused him to do a double take, but he maintained his 'in charge' demeanor. "Commander Data, give us the room for a moment, please."

"Aye, sir." Data stepped outside and the conference room door slid shut.

"Since when are we back to using titles?" Riker asked. "I asked you to call me 'Will' a year ago."

"And I will, sir, when I'm talking to my honorary uncle, but I'm not, am I, right now? I'm talking to Commander Riker, who asked me here to wheedle something out of my partner."

"Why won't you talk him out of it?"

"Because he's right."

"You go with him to one conference and you're an expert on cybernetics now?"

"Hardly," I said. "But I did have an epiphany, of sorts, while we were on Hamal IV, and that's how I know Data's right."

"Explain." It was _not_ a request.

I answered slowly, choosing my words with care. "Commander, we – humans, I mean – we use language casually. We use 'think' and 'believe' interchangeably, to mean something we're uncertain of, or something we hypothesize. Data doesn't. He may use words like 'hope' and 'enjoy' and 'wish' in the same colloquial way we do – without any emotional intent – but that's because he's adapted to the language style of the people he most frequently associates with."

I took a breath, checked his expression. He was clearly receptive to what I was saying. "But when Data uses 'believe,' he _means_ it. And he means it with the full force of his intellect and his understanding."

Understanding dawned on Will Riker's face. "So, when he says he believes the exocomps are alive…."

"Then they're alive," I said simply. "I'm sorry, Commander, I know it breeched every ethical rule there is for you to involve me, but I really can't help you."

"No, no of course you can't." He tapped his comm-badge. "Commander Data, will you rejoin us, please."

"Do you want me to go, sir?" I asked, as the doors opened.

"No, Zoe. I've already involved you; you may as well stay."

Data stepped back into the room, his expression blank, his posture still closed. I wanted to slip my hand into his, but I knew it would be a very bad idea.

Commander Riker's voice was much less harsh when he said, addressing Data. "If there were a way to save the captain and Geordi without destroying the exocomps, I would jump on it, but we have run out of time, and this is the only solution I've got."

"Then let me offer an alternative. Transport me to the station. I will attempt a complete manual shutdown of the particle stream."

My sharp intake of breath was drowned out by Riker's counter-argument. "The radiation levels are too high, even for you. Your positronic net would ionize in no time. I can't let you sacrifice yourself."

Data spared a glance at me, but he was resolute. "Commander, if I give my life to save my fellow officers, that is my choice. The exocomps no longer have a choice."

Commander Riker thought for a minute, and I could tell he was wracking his brain for a viable alternative. "Then… what if we re-connect their command pathways and we _give them_ a choice? You've assumed the exocomps would shut down before accepting the mission. What if we ask them if they're willing to proceed?"

It took Data a fraction of a second to consider Will Riker's suggestion. "That sounds reasonable, sir. If they choose to go, I would be willing to release the transporter lockout."

"Fair enough. Have Dr. Farallon meet you in Transporter Room Two."

"Aye, sir."

Data turned on his heel and left the room, and I was alone with Commander Riker once again.

"If you want to observe on the bridge, Zoe, you're welcome to join me. I'm sure you want to know what happens."

I did want to know, but I also had faith that Data's little friends would do the right thing. "I think I'd better go back to quarters, Commander. But thanks for the offer."

"Fair enough," he repeated.

I was half-way out the door when he called me back. "Sir?"

"Uncle? Really? I was hoping for big brother at least."

I chuckled, which is the reaction I assumed he was going for. "You'd better not let my mother hear you say that, _Will._ She might think you're calling her old."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46319.97**

 **(Sunday, 27 April 2369, 19:00 hours, ship's time)**

I was curled up on the couch reading a book when Data returned to our quarters at precisely nineteen hundred hours.

"Zoe." He made my name into a greeting. "The exocomps chose another method of shutting down the particle fountain, but ultimately it _was_ their choice," he told me before I could ask. "One of them was… killed… sacrificing itself in favor of the other two."

"I'm sorry you couldn't save them all," I said. "Captain Picard and Geordi?"

"They are unharmed, and have returned to the ship."

"Thanks for telling me," I said lightly. "Spot's had dinner, but I haven't yet. Did you want to join me?"

"Be comfortable. I will replicate our meal and we can eat while watching a video if you wish."

I smiled at him. "Sounds lovely. Thank you."

We ended up sharing one serving of ratatouille and a salad, and watching one of those romantic comedies that's essentially the same as every other romantic comedy: good for ninety minutes (or so) of enjoyment, and then forgotten.

When our meal was finished, though, and the video had ended, I had to ask. "Did you mean it when you said you'd sacrifice yourself to save the Geordi and the captain?"

Data's answer was succinct. "Yes."

"I see."

"Zoe?"

"Look… no one ever likes the idea of losing the person they love most in the world. Certainly no one wants to watch while that person is lost because of their own choice, and I understand that you have a duty to this ship and her crew." I readjusted my position on the couch so I could face him directly. "But you have a duty to me, as well."

His yellow-eyed gaze met mine. "At the time," he explained, "I believed it was the correct choice. It is possible I was being… hasty."

 _Believed._

"Okay."

"You still seem… troubled."

"The other day… when you said you were alone in the universe… I've kind of been stewing about that."

He lifted his arm and I moved to nestle against him. "Tell me," Data invited.

"It's easy for me to promise that you'll never be alone again, but it's not the same, is it?"

"Your intent was appreciated, Zoe, but, no. It is not the same."

"I can't ever make that isolation go away," I said. "I wish I could."

Data lowered his face to nuzzle my hair, and then he used his free hand to tilt my chin up. He kissed me, first gently, then coaxingly, until we were kissing the way we usually did, with lips, and teeth, and tongue.

When we broke the kiss, when I needed to breathe, he smoothed my hair away from my face. "My Zoe," he said softly. "You make it… _less._ "

I put my hand flat against his chest, and let the reassuring _thrum_ of his internal systems move through me. I supposed 'less' would have to be enough… for a while, anyway. But someday… I closed my eyes and imagined an android with his eyes and my coloring. And android with a younger face, and I smiled.

"Zoe?" Data called my name when I didn't respond. "Are you alright?"

"I'm… I'm good." I said. "Let's go to bed."

And we did.

* * *

 **Notes:** This chapter begins slightly before the episode "Quality of Life." Events depicted during the span of that episode take place on the same calendar dates (Earth equivalent) but not the same stardates, as all the canon stardates were in the middle of the ship's night shift. I have _not_ changed where this falls in the actual timeline. (In all of the CRUSHverse, I've "moved" one episode and had the initial Data/Jenna relationship happen in what would be season three, instead of season four, as it actually did. ) While the stardates in TNG are in order, there was really no attempt to match them to calendar dates during the run of the show – conversion was done afterward by fans. This is just one of the reasons (Zoe's existence being the biggest) that this is an AU saga, albeit a close-canon one.

As well, I've added a bit of time in between scenes, and adjusted some things to account for Zoe's presence and let her be at least a little involved in the story.

Percherons are a kind of French draft horse, usually black or grey, commonly used to pull carriages in cities like NYC and Philadelphia where such tours are offered. I have no idea if BOND ever performed in Central Park. It's a holodeck program, not reality, so I suspect you can mix and match venue, artist, weather, era, etc.

Molly O'Brien was born around February 27, 2368 (in the episode "Disaster") but Zoe was only two weeks past her rape at that point, and focused on Data being headless and melty, and I failed to work it into the narrative of that section of _Crush II: Ostinato._

K-9 is a _Doctor Who_ reference.

Data's dialogue with the computer is taken from the "Quality of Life" episode transcript, as is his exchange with Dr. Crusher, and the scene between him and Riker in the conference room, although I've altered that scene slightly.

Finally, as so often happens, this chapter ended up being vastly different than what I thought it would be.


	9. Enemies Foreign and Domestic - Part I

**Enemies Foreign and Domestic – Part I**

 _ **Continuity Note:**_ _This chapter starts slightly before the first part of "Chains of Command," and is offered in two parts. Part II will be posted next weekend._

 **Stardate 46347.78**

 **(Wednesday, 7 May 2369, 22:34 hours, ship's time)**

"Hi, love, I'm home. Dana said to tell you, that your explanation in class this morning really helped. She'll wow you on Friday's exam." I paused just inside the door to the quarters I shared with Data, and focused my attention on him.

I knew that my partner would recognize the contemplative expression on my face. It was a frequent mien for me, especially after Dana, Serena, and I had indulged in a 'girls' night' watching videos with decidedly romantic- and often cheesy – plotlines. Often, whatever I'd seen sparked a fantasy about Data and I replacing the lead characters. Not that I wasn't happy with him as he was, but as Deanna Troi had recently reminded me, a little fantasy is healthy and even fun from time to time.

"Good evening, Dearest. Did you have an enjoyable time?"

"We did. I did." I moved to the side of his desk and stretched across it to kiss him, giving him an excellent vantage point down the front of the V-neck shirt I'm wearing. Ever since he'd begun feeling desire, he'd been indulging in things like leering at me when we're home alone. It wasn't _really_ leering, of course. It was more that he was teasing me, in his way, and frankly, knowing I could command that sort of attention from the Man with the Brain the Size of a Planet, was both empowering and flattering.

Data glanced away from my cleavage and met my eyes, the slight lift of his eyebrows informing me that he did peek, and that he'd noticed my black underwear, which means he also knew that I was feeling amorous. Certain colors of lingerie had been one of my signals since our relationship became sexual, but it had taken on a whole new meaning since that desire kicked in.

Sometimes, he had to struggle not to exhaust me, with his libido (or its android equivalent) in a sort of overdrive, but it was the sort of struggle we both enjoyed.

I flashed my lover a playful grin and moved away from his console. His voice followed me, asking, "Have you eaten?" It was a fair question. I tended to forget to eat when I was busy or focused.

"We ordered Chinese food from the replicator," I told him. "Don't stop what you're doing. I really want a bath." As I crossed the threshold into our bedroom, I paused and turned back to him, suggesting in my best come-hither purr, "Come get me out of the bath in about half an hour, and I'll make it worth your while"

"Any time spent with you is 'worth my while,'" Data reminded me. "It will take me approximately thirty-three minutes, fifteen-point-three-seven seconds to complete my task. I will come for you shortly after."

I didn't miss the double entendre, but I also didn't let him see my face. Instead I trilled a laugh and said, "God, I love you."

I let our bedroom door slide closed behind me before he could utter his typical response, but I was pretty certain we were both thinking it.

Roughly ninety minutes later, tangled together in the rumpled sheets of our bed, I placed a kiss in the center of the smooth, gold expanse of Data's bare chest. Then I lifted myself enough to be able to look into his eyes.

"Have you ever considered wearing a kilt?"

It's not the sort of question he'd been expecting. "Kilts are only allowed as part of formal dress uniforms for those officers who have a registered affiliation with one of the extant Scottish clans, either on Earth, or on one of the colony worlds."

"Okay, but, off-duty?"

"You and your friends were watching an entertainment video set in Scotland." It wasn't a question.

I didn't exactly blush. "Well, parts of it were set in Scotland. Eighteenth-century Scotland, to be exact. But other parts took place in mid-twentieth-century Scotland and slightly later twentieth century Boston."

"I am not familiar with such a work."

"No need for you to be. It's basically kilt porn with an historical setting and a dash of time travel fantasy thrown in."

"Ah. Then I may safely assume that the romantic lead wears a kilt?"

"Aye laddie, he does. And a right bonnie one as well." My accent was a mix of Lachlan Meade, Captain Scott, and the actors on the vid my friends and I had been watching, and either of the first two would have found it appalling.

"And you wish me to indulge you in one of your fantasies." Again, Data was observing, not asking.

I laughed and stretched up to kiss him. "Maybe…" I tease. "Or maybe I just want to see what happens if you show off your handsome knees in public."

"You have never before commented on the aesthetic appeal of any of my joints," Data said drily. "I do not believe there is anything special about them."

"Hmm. Fair point. I guess I should inspect your knees right now to be certain. I mean I know they're not _knobby_ or anything." I was teasing him, flirting shamelessly, but he was playing along.

"As you wish."

I slid down the bed, pushing back the covers as I went, until I was kneeling on the floor at the bottom of the mattress. Beginning with my boyfriend's feet – and paying special attention to his knees, I kissed and licked and caressed my way back up to a much more prominent part of his anatomy, one that was clearly ready for a second round of lovemaking.

I straddled his thighs, pausing a moment to appreciate the texture of the downy hair he chose to grow there.

He lifted his hand to guide himself into my center, and then offered me both his hands to balance against so that I could maintain a more vertical position. My fingers laced through his, I rode him to our mutual completion.

Sated and exhausted, I reached behind me for the covers, pulling them over us both until I was wrapped in warmth and curled up against his solid body, ready for sleep.

Data instructed the computer to extinguish the lights. Then he kissed the top of my head, and answered my declaration from hours before. "I am not God, Zoe. I am only Data, and I am devoted to you."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46348.88**

 **(Wednesday, 8 May 2369, 08:13 hours, ship's time)**

The hot water in our shower was exactly what I needed after a night of playful sex followed by falling asleep on my lover's chest. I loved hearing – and feeling – the subtle thrum of his internal systems, the sound that existed beneath the respiration and pulse that anyone near him could detect – but a solidly built android wasn't always the best pillow. My neck had been a little stiff when I'd first left our bed.

A few minutes of sonics, followed by the heat and pressure of a full-on water shower (not that sonics didn't employ some water anyway – they did, but it wasn't the same) had relaxed my body, and my mood, to the point where I was engaging in something I hadn't done much since Data and I had begun sharing quarters.

I was singing in the shower.

 _"I needed the shelter of someone's arms and there you were  
I needed someone to understand my ups and downs  
and there you were  
With sweet love and devotion  
deeply touching my emotion  
I want to stop and thank you baby  
I just want to stop and thank you baby_

 _"How sweet it is to be loved by you  
How sweet it is to be loved by you."_

I laughed at myself, riffing on the ancient tune as I shampooed and conditioned my hair, and then used a depilatory cream on my under-arms and legs. Body hair wasn't stigmatized any more – hadn't been for over a century – but as a swimmer and surfer, I preferred smooth skin; it reduced drag in the water.

I continued my song as I combed out my damp hair and got dressed for a day in the Protocol Office. Though I had taken the equivalency test in order to be done with high school several weeks before, Lt. Prerr, Captain Picard and Captain Louvois of the JAG office had agreed that my internship should continue until I was ready to leave for school in a few months.

Leaving our bedroom, I was still humming, though I stopped long enough to order breakfast from the replicator. Data was working at his console, but he came around his desk to join me at the table. He didn't typically share food with me on weekday mornings, but he always sat with me while I ate.

Starting the day together whenever possible was one of our rituals, and even though I had never been, and would never be, a morning person, it was one of the things I truly loved about our relationship.

I resumed singing as I set my coffee and omelet down at my place, and turned to pull my somewhat perplexed partner into an impromptu dance.

 _"I want to stop and thank you baby  
I just want to stop and thank you baby_

 _How sweet it is to be loved by you  
How sweet it is to be loved by you."_

I stopped singing so I could stretch up for a kiss, and Data used the opportunity to guide me to my chair, asking, "Zoe, are you certain last night's activities did not result in too many endorphins coursing through your system?"

Laughing I kissed him again before actually sitting down. "I promise I'm fine, Data," I said. "I'm just…" I picked up my coffee mug and then set it down. "I'm just really happy. When I was a kid I used to sing around the house all the time. I'm not exactly sure when I got out of the habit." I added milk to the coffee, stirred it, and picked up the mug once more. "I'll stop if it bothers you."

"No, Zoe. It does not bother me. Your singing is quite enjoyable. It is merely behavior that you do not frequently display."

"Well, be warned, lover-mine, when I'm this happy, living with me is like living in a musical."

He quirked an eyebrow at me, and observed, "If that is the case, it is a 'good thing' that I have taught you how to dance."

I resisted the urge to throw my napkin at him, and reached across the table to squeeze and release his hand instead. "I hadn't thought of that, but yes. Yes, it is." I started in on my breakfast, pausing to confirm, "You're back on alpha shift for the next two weeks, aren't you?"

"Unless an emergent situation arises, that is correct."

"So… date night tonight, after rehearsal? It's your turn to choose our activity."

"I have already done so."

"Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"Not at this time," he said, in the tone that meant all the wheedling in the world wouldn't get more information out of him.

" _Data_!"

But my partner only favored me with a level gaze. "If you finish your meal in the next five-point-seven-three minutes, I will be able to walk you to work before I report to the bridge."

I chose to focus on eating.

 **(=A=)**

The Protocol officer on a starship was part diplomat and part quartermaster, and reported to the head of Ship's Operations – commonly known as Ops – rather than Command, Security, Science, Medical or any of a number of other divisions within the hierarchy of department and rank.

During the four or so months I'd been assigned to Lt. Tlassam 'Lasso' Prerr as a student intern, I'd been part of a cultural exchange with the Mutherians, been invited to sit in on political and social briefings from official Federation sources, including Ambassador Uhura, whom I'd had the privilege of meeting a year before, and been assigned light duties under the JAG officer, mainly cataloguing reports and assisting with research.

Most of the work we did was fairly innocuous, and no one had ever bothered sending me out of the room when sensitive information was discussed. Either they trusted me, or they trusted my relationship with Data, but either way, I had always been very aware that there would be a time when I'd have to be excluded from things that were going on.

I was surprised, then, when instead of having me report to the JAG office, my boss, Lt. Tlassam 'Lasso' Prerr, pulled me into his office and closed the door.

"Did I do something wrong?" I asked.

"I think you're well aware that your performance has been excellent," Lasso assured me. "Very soon, the _Enterprise_ will be changing course to rendezvous with the _Cairo,_ and I've been asked to inform you that a friend of yours has requested a meeting with you."

"A… friend?" I had no idea what friend could possibly be requesting my presence via Protocol.

"That was the word the admiral used," Lasso confirmed. "Admiral Nechayev will be arriving on the _Cairo_ in a few days, and has asked for a meeting with you. Obviously, she will have official meetings with Captain Picard, and I'm afraid even I am not in the loop on what those will cover. I merely wanted to make sure that you were prepared for her arrival."

"You make it sound like I'm some sort of spy," I said, choosing to be amused by his secrecy. "Admiral Nechayev's nephew and I were in a play together when he was doing his Semester in Space here, and when I was on Earth the following summer she sort of adopted me as an affectionate niece. If she's asking for me, it's probably just that she wants to make sure I'm happy and healthy." I paused. "You might want to make sure we have a good replicator recipe for Bularian canapes," I added. "They're her favorite treat; I've never seen her turn one down."

Lasso grinned at me, his teeth gleaming white in contrast to his dark skin. "I shall make a note," he promised. But his expression turned serious once more. "Zoe… it is both a blessing and a curse to have the attention of someone so powerful. A connection with a vice admiral can be a boon, but if you ever abuse it…"

"I would never…." I began, and then I stopped. "I try very hard never to ask Data about the details of his work, and I do the same with Alyn – with Admiral Nechayev. I think of her as an aunt, and we typically stick to things like art and music and my college plans when we chat. She did convince me to tour the Academy once, but it only confirmed what I already knew: I'm meant for a civilian life."

"As you say." I got the feeling Lasso knew more than he was sharing with me, but I chose not to press. "Alright then, Zoe, get back to work… I think the JAG officer wants you pulling case files today?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go to it."

I left Lasso's office feeling slightly ill at ease, but I pushed the feeling away. Maybe I'd ask Data about it later… maybe I wouldn't. Either way, I wouldn't know why Alynna had made a special request to see me until she arrived.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46350.12**

 **(Thursday, 8 May 2369, 19:07 hours, ship's time)**

"Sorry I'm late," Cress said, rushing into the ship's auditorium with her viola already out of its case. "There was a SOAR meeting and it ran late." She focused her ice-blue eyes on me and added. "I'm surprised you don't attend, Zoe. You really should."

Data and Dennis were already rehearsing the violin parts for our current work-in-progress, a string quartet in C-minor by the German romantic composer Max Bruch. Dennis had selected it – we had a rotation in place for selecting the music – and was also taking the first violin position for the piece, leaving Data to play second. This was a change initiated by Data, but inspired by my time at Suzuki, where we'd all switched instruments - cellists playing violin, and such – to broaden our skillsets.

"I don't even know what SOAR is," I confessed. I'd heard it mentioned by people in the Protocol office, obviously, but I'd never bothered to find out.

Cress's eyebrows went up in surprise. "You're a civilian who came aboard as a dependent, and is now in a committed relationship with a line officer and you don't know what SOAR is?"

"I really don't," I confirmed.

"You're still doing your internship with Protocol, aren't you?" She waited for my confirming nod before continuing, "It's the Starfleet Office of Assistance and Resources. Ask Lasso to hook you up with a rep, or comm me during alpha shift."

"I'll do that," I assured her. Mercifully, at that point, Data changed his focus from the conversation he was having with Dennis to the two of us.

"Zoe, Cressida, we are ready for you now."

Rehearsal with Dennis playing the lead violin position was rocky at first. We were accustomed to Data being in charge, as he was always on the beat. While none of us could match his skill – android timing and all that – Dennis was the worst of us to attempt to lead. Finally, Cress, who was even more frustrated than I was, called a halt.

"What's wrong?" Dennis might have been an engineering specialist, but he was completely clueless a lot of the time.

"You are," Cress answered, not unkindly. "You're off-time. If you won't let Data take lead, at least let Zoe set the beat."

"Fine," Dennis said. "Zoe, do your thing."

I shared a look with Data, and gave a kind of half shrug. He flashed a look back at me, that was clearly meant to convey that I should just go with his request.

"Okay," I said to the group. "Let's take it from part C in the second movement. Dennis, you need to be a little more legato in that part." I counted off the time, and nodded to the less experienced violinist, and we worked through the rest of the second movement of the quartet, and got a good start on the third. Still, the entire evening felt off-kilter, and every note felt like work, rather than art.

On the way home, Data offered to carry my cello, as he always did, and I chose to let him, which was atypical. "You did not enjoy this evening's session," my partner observed as we entered the turbo-lift.

"We flow better when you play first violin," I explained, trying to keep the grumbling tone from dominating my voice. "Dennis picked a piece that was almost _all_ first violin, but he really isn't good at taking the lead. We don't mesh as well. And… I may be projecting, but I think Cress resents him being so prominent."

"We seemed to regain our 'flow,' after you began to lead us."

"I guess."

"Zoe, if you no longer wish to be part of the group, no one will fault you."

"Is it that obvious?"

"It is to _me_ ," Data pointed out. "What is wrong?"

"Time is slipping away so fast. It's already May. I'm back to measuring my time here in weeks - okay, more than ten of them, but… I miss playing music with just you. I miss it being one of the ways you and I connected. At the same time, I don't really want you to replace me, because I'm not ready to let the quartet go."

Data's expression was one I hadn't seen from him before. It was contemplative and serious, but his words didn't assure me that I was overreacting. Instead he pointed out, "The recital we are working toward will be your last performance on the ship before you relocate to Earth for school."

"That, too," I confirm.

We arrived at our deck and entered our quarters, where Data returned my cello to its place in the corner, and his violin to the shelf built into the living room wall. He'd told me while I was away the previous summer that it seemed, to him, that my instrument was waiting to be used in partnership with his, but right now they felt – to me – as if they were no longer a match.

"Zoe… " Data began, but I moved close enough to press a finger to his lips, and then replace my finger with my lips.

"I'm tired and cross," I said. "I'm going to go take a bath. Can we table this conversation for about half an hour?"

"As you wish," came his answer. "Would you care for tea when you have finished your bath?"

I favored him with a soft smile. Tea and quiet conversation had been one of our first rituals, and returning to it always balanced me. "I'd like that. Thank you."

I went off to soak in hot water and bubbles for half an hour. When I returned to the living room with my hair slightly damp, dressed only in one of Data's Academy t-shirts and fresh underwear, I found that my partner had lowered the lights, lit candles, and had a pot of tea and a light snack of fruit and cheese waiting on the coffee table.

The man himself was perched on one of our chairs with his guitar. "You appear to be much more relaxed," he observed. "Was your bath satisfactory?" He was still in uniform – he hadn't changed before quartet rehearsal - but something subtle in his attitude stopped me from teasing him about it.

"You know me. Want a whole new Zoe? Just add water. Unless it's morning, in which case just add coffee… although coffee is mostly water, so I guess it still applies. Are you planning to serenade me?"

"I had thought to give you a guitar lesson."

"Finally!"

"Yes, 'finally,'" Data agreed. "However, as you were not 'riding a music high' after quartet rehearsal, I have gone with 'plan B.'"

I knew the smile on my face was one that expressed fondness. "I still want to learn, but I'm really _not_ in the mood for anything more than listening tonight. Thank you. I touched his shoulder and we shared a kiss but then I made my way to the couch, where I nestled into my corner, pulled a light blanket over my lap, and waited for my private concert, the provided tea and snacks in easy reach.

Data's playing was deft, as ever, and he kept his repertoire that evening to mostly classical music, but as my eyes grew heavy, he switched into a more contemporary piece – something he eventually told me was from twentieth century.

 _"Perhaps love is like a resting place  
A shelter from the storm, it exists to give you comfort  
It is there to keep you warm, and in those times of trouble  
When you are most alone, the memory of love will bring you home_

Perhaps love is like a window  
Perhaps an open door, it invites you to come close  
It wants to show you more, and even if you lose yourself  
And don't know what to do the memory of love will see you through"

At first, I was just enjoying the song for what it was, floating on the warmth of his pure tenor, but after a few lines, I sat up straight and stared at him. Data, I realized, wasn't singing this song just as a gift of music; he was singing to convey a message.

 _"Oh, love to some is like a cloud  
To some as strong as steel, for some a way of living  
For some a way to feel, and some say love is holding on  
Some say letting go, some say love is everything  
And some say they don't know_

Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of change  
Like a fire when its cold outside, or thunder when it rains  
If I should live forever and all my dreams come true  
My memories of love will be of you"

His name was on the tip of my tongue, but as much as I wanted to hear him tell me whatever he was trying to express with wire and wood and music and words, I wanted to let him finish. Data did very few things without some kind of plan, and upsetting his agenda wouldn't serve any purpose.

He played a few bars without vocal accompaniment and then started singing at what seemed to be the mid-point of a repeated bridge.

 _"And some say love is holding on  
Some say letting go, and some say love is everything  
And some say they don't know_

Perhaps love is like the ocean full of conflict, full of change  
Like a fire when it's cold outside or thunder when it rains  
If I should live forever and all my dreams come true  
My memories of love will be of you"

My eyes remained fixed on Data as the last notes of his song faded into nothing. He was still for a long moment, and quiet. I wasn't sure if he was searching for words, or waiting for my response. Finally, he set his guitar on the floor, leaning it against the stool, and came to join me on the couch.

I shifted my position to move closer to him, and that's when I saw it – the expression on his face. It was one I'd only ever seen once before, when he'd activated one of the files on the chip from Lore. It had been called _Aperitif_ and it had provided my partner with a fleeting taste of love.

Then, Data's face had been suffused with a sort of inner glow, as if connections that had been _so close_ had finally been made. It had been a broad expression, and it had only lasted a few seconds. He hadn't even been able to finish saying "I love you," before the subroutine had ended and his neural net had been temporarily overwhelmed.

The expression I was witnessing a year later was a softer version of the other, more than an echo, less than a reproduction. Data's eyes were wide open, the way they were when something surprised him, or touched him on a core-deep level. His mouth had the faintest upcurve at the corners, a gentler version of the smile that he only ever seemed to produce for me.

He reached for my hands, and I met him half way, resting my hands in his tender clasp. "Data…?" I began, but he squeezed my fingers lightly, and I halted before I'd truly begun.

"May I speak first?" he asked. There was the faintest of quivers in his voice. I'd heard him do that before, when things between us got… intense. I didn't answer aloud, just nodded, and he continued. "One year, three months, two weeks and two-point-eight-nine days ago, we sat on this couch, and I responded to your declaration of love by explaining all that you meant to me then, and assuring you that while I could not… feel… love for you, I was devoted to you, and to us as a couple."

"I remember," I said. "When we're apart, going over your list – your litany – is part of what keeps me sane."

"Not quite one year ago," he went on, choosing not to specify the weeks, days, and hours, "Lore's chip gave me a taste of what love _felt_ like. Specifically, my programming interpreted it as love for _you._ "

"I remember that, too, Data. Is this some kind of early anniversary thing?" I'd officially moved in with him right after that trip. It wouldn't be unusual for him to want to mark that.

"No, Zoe; it is not. It is…" he paused, and this time, I knew he was searching for words. "… a clarification. As our relationship has deepened, so too has my concern that in committing yourself to me, you would be choosing a life where you would not receive love. More, I have considered that it may be unethical for me to expect that sacrifice from you, or to allow it."

"Sacrifice?" A flash of anger colored my reply, and I tried hard to bite it back. My partner was rarely so careful with his words. I suspected something big was about to happen, and I didn't want to ruin the song, or the moment, or… In a firm but measured tone, I assured him. "The only sacrifice there is in being with you is the same one any civilian makes when they commit to being with a Starfleet officer: the knowledge that your commitment is Fleet, Ship, Family, in that order, for as long as you're on active duty."

For a moment, I almost expected him to debate me on that point. Instead, he gave a slight dip of his head, acknowledging the truth of my statement without explicitly addressing it. "When we returned from Hamal IV, I sought advice about this dilemma from Counselor Troi," Data continued. "She suggested that while I may never develop human emotions, I should consider the possibility that I already possess… android analogues."

"I could've told you that," I murmured. "I think I _have_ told you that."

"Obliquely, yes, you have."

"So why are you just now willing to consider it? Because it came from Deanna?"

"I had already been considering it, from the moment on the dance floor at The Orb when I realized I was experiencing desire." Only Data could say something like that in a perfect deadpan. Only Data even _would_.

"I'm not sure I follow," I admitted.

Data released one of my hands, using his freed one to lift my chin so that our gazes were level. "Our relationship has always included respect, loyalty, affection, and attraction. As well, we share comfort, familiarity, intimacy, devotion, a sense of belonging… a certainty that we belong – that we _fit_ – together."

I grinned at that, and felt my cheeks grow hot. Trust him to still be able to make me blush under the truth of our connection. Trust him to adopt my word when declaring… wait, _was he declaring something?_ I wanted to ask a million questions.

Instead, I commented, "Data, it sounds like you're defining love."

I expected a dissertation about how he was merely attempting to clarify our relationship. Instead he spoke two words.

"I am."

"Data?"

The hand that had been at my chin moved to capture a small section of my hair, and he twisted it between his fingers as he spoke. "After consulting the counselor and Geordi, as well as reconsidering the many conversations we have had and analyzing the history of our relationship, I realized that in my studies of human romantic relationships, I have spent much time attempting to identify what love is to others."

"Data?" I repeated his name in a slightly different inflection. I was trembling slightly, and I wasn't sure why. If either of us had cause to be anxious, it wasn't me.

Except for the fact that he was playing with my hair, my partner appeared unruffled. "However," he continued. "I have been remiss. I have never considered what love might be for _me_ , and I have now determined that all of the conditions I listed earlier are not merely a _definition_ of love; they _are_ love."

"Data - " I was trembling slightly, and I wasn't sure why. If either of us had cause to be anxious, it wasn't me. "So, what you sang to me was… " I felt like the room was spinning. If our quarters had been on the exterior side of the corridor, I'd have looked out the viewport to make sure the ship wasn't spinning. "And what you're saying is …" My eyes were darting around the room in a vain attempt to find equilibrium. I found it, finally, by returning my focus to his face – gold-leaf complexion, eyes like twin suns, the nose only someone as arrogant as Dr. Soong would have chosen, likely because it matched his own, parted lips. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe." I wasn't sure whether he was acknowledging that I'd spoken his name again, or answering my questions.

"Yes… what?" I wondered if I sounded as loopy as I suddenly felt. Loopy and dizzy and a little bit shy.

"Yes, I am telling you that I love you." There was that quiver again, in his voice, and it moved me to tears. "Dearest, why are you crying?"

I answered him with a watery smile, and the slightly smug reply, "They're happy tears, love, because I have never doubted this, but hearing you say it is all kinds of amazing."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46357.59**

 **(Sunday, 11 May 2369, 12:32 hours, ship's time)**

 **U.S.S.** _ **Cairo**_

After spending almost all of Friday and Saturday in a state of giddy joy, I dutifully transported over to the _Cairo_ to have lunch with Alynna Nechayev. I was greeted by a duty ensign, and escorted to the stateroom she'd adopted as her own.

"Zoe," the admiral greeted me warmly. "You look well," she looked me up and down, clearly appraising me. "Well and happy," she amended.

"I am happy," I said. "Happy and curious," I continued, imitating her phrasing. "I know you didn't come all the way out here just to have lunch with me."

"Come sit," she said, leading me to the table placed near one of the viewports. "Phillipa Louvois says the reports she's getting on your internship are glowing."

"Well, Lt. Prerr is very generous with his praise, then." I settled into the chair opposite hers. Noticing that there was a third place-setting on the table, I asked, "Is someone joining us?"

"There is," she confirmed. "I wanted the two of you to meet privately before you return to the _Enterprise._ She's due any minute."

"Am I allowed to ask why you're here while we wait? Lasso said you were meeting with Captain Picard, and Data was called to a meeting not long before beamed over but, I try not to ask either of them for details of what's going on. Data tells me what he can, when he can, but..." I trailed off because her expression had changed and she was peering at me curiously. "Alynna?"

"You have a personal relationship with Captain Picard?"

As far as I knew, the only people who knew for sure that the captain had been teaching me to box, and had asked to sail with me sometime, were Data and Captain Louvois. I'd planned to tell Deanna, but hadn't gotten around to it. Still this woman ranked all of them, and she'd maintained a personal relationship with me even after her nephew and I had determined we weren't really couple material.

"Last year, in the first few weeks of recovering from my rape, I accidentally usurped his workout. He found me abusing a heavy bag and stopped me from injuring my hands and wrists. It turned into a regular thing. We meet once a week, when his schedule allows."

"I see. It's good you have a physical outlet, but I thought you were a surfer?"

"I am, and I swim also, but at the time I really needed to punch things."

"That's completely understandable," Alynna said, "and I'm glad Jean-Luc was willing to help."

"I think it helped him, too," I said. "He gets to take off his pips for a couple of hours, so to speak."

"All officers need that release, Zoe. I'm sure you've seen that even with Data."

I nodded, "It's not as obvious with him, but yes, he needs down-time, too."

The chime of the annunciator paused our conversation, and we both looked to the door. The woman who entered was maybe ten centimeters taller than me, and looked like she was in her mid-thirties, though anti-aging technology was so good, she could have been fifteen years older or younger, and I would not have been surprised. Her hair was jet black, but her eyes were sea green, and the smile on her face told me that she, at least, knew why the _Cairo_ and _Enterprise_ had rendezvoused.

Like me, she was dressed in civilian clothing – a simple sleeveless dress and heels with understated jewelry.

Taking my cue from the admiral, I rose to my feet to greet the newcomer.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, her manner easy and bright. "Ed was certain he'd requested his dress uniform be pressed, and he hadn't and…" she stopped. "Forgive me, Alynna."

Chuckling and shaking her head, the admiral said, "No apology necessary, Deb. Zoe and I have been catching up. Zoe Harris, this is Deborah Jellico. Until today her husband was commanding officer of this vessel. Deb, Zoe is an intern in the _Enterprise_ protocol office. She's part of a pilot program for high school students who live-aboard, although her status isn't quite typical of most such students."

"Zoe, it's good to meet you; please call me Deb." We shook hands and then we all took our seats. A duty ensign appeared as if from nowhere to serve lunch – a salmon dish with a green salad and seasoned rice – along with glasses of mineral water with wedges of lime.

"What makes you atypical, Zoe?" Deb Jellico asked me, at the same time that I asked her:

"Why was your husband only captain of the _Cairo_ 'until today?'"

We both laughed, and I ducked my head slightly toward the older woman. "You first?"

"Ed's been transferred to the _Enterprise_ ," she explained, glancing at Alynna.

The small blonde woman whom I'd heard experienced officers refer to as the Dragon Lady sat up a bit straighter in her chair. "Zoe, as a civilian student you normally wouldn't be privy to any but the most basic information about this, but you're not just a student. You're also the partner of the _Enterprise'_ s second officer, and as such, I'm going to share a little more than the basics. This goes no further than this room, and Commander Data; is that clear?"

I also sat up a bit taller, recognizing that the 'Aunt Alynna' portion of the afternoon had ended. "Absolutely."

"At thirteen hundred hours, ship's time, Captain Picard will cede command of the _Enterprise_ to Captain Edward Jellico. Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Lt. Worf have been assigned to detached duty for aa mission that I'm afraid I cannot detail, even for you. They will be spending several days in preparation. You may see things in the protocol office that you would consider to be unusual. I'm going to ask you to ignore them as best you can."

I glanced at Deb. Her expression was open but serious, and she picked up the conversation with her tone matching her face. "Zoe, as the partner of an existing crew member, there will be people among the _Enterprise_ crew and the civilian complement who will look to you as an example of how to handle things. I know you're very young, and this is likely the first time you'll be put in such a position – "

"It's not." I blurted it out, and then immediately apologized. "Last month there was an incident where the ship was taken by a group of Ferengi mercenaries, and most of the adults were sent to the surface of Ligos VIII to work in the mines. The Ferengi consider it inhumane to separate men from their mates, and Data made our relationship clear to them, so we'd be housed together." I made a sort of shrugging motion. "Apparently, I'm more approachable than he is, especially when he's the ranking officer on-scene. Anyway, the whole time we were there people came to me asking if I knew if their kids were safe aboard the ship – they were – or if Data was working on a plan – he was – or, well, sometimes they just wanted to be assured no one was in it alone."

"That must have been difficult for you," Deb observed, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"Data would tell you that I 'handled myself most ably,'" I said, falling into my partner's inflection out of habit. "But I had a complete meltdown once we were home, and in private."

"I'll have to request his official log," Alynna commented. "In any case, Zoe, you may be asked to be a bit more of a liaison than you typically are. If you're unsure, or uncomfortable, Deb will be there to help you, and I expect that you will be helpful and supportive of her."

"Of course, I will," I said without hesitation. I turned to Deb, "I'm barely scratching the surface of what it's like to be in a committed relationship with a line officer, but I know very well what it's like to be new somewhere."

The black-haired woman smiled. "Thank you, Zoe. I'm sure you and I will be very good friends."

I didn't really reply to her, but I made my agreement clear. I had a feeling she was right.

Our lunch broke up shortly after that. Deb left to collect her son, and Alynna called the duty ensign to escort me back to the transporter room. "I'm sorry there isn't more time, Zoe. I suspect you and Data would have enjoyed a tour of the _Cairo_." She paused and pulled me into a slightly awkward embrace. "I promised your mother I wouldn't let you leave without a hug."

I laughed and hugged her back. "I'm betting you don't do that a lot," I said, stepping back.

"Practically never. It would ruin my hard-won reputation as a cold-hearted bitch." We both laughed that time, and then the ensign arrived and I was beamed home.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46360.40**

 **(Monday, 12 May 2369, 13:09 hours, ship's time)**

 **U.S.S.** _ **Enterprise**_

"The whole ship feels different," I complained to Deanna Troi at lunch that day. At my request, we were eating in the med-deck mess, a small bay of replicators and a few tables located around the corner from sickbay. "There's all this tension, and people are really on-edge."

"Is that why we're having lunch in seclusion?" the other woman asked, her tone full of humor. "Because the change in command has you unsettled?"

"No. I mean, yes, that's part of it. Alyn – Admiral Nechayev warned me that since Data's the only member of the senior staff with a partner, and since the crew doesn't know Deb – Deborah Jellico – yet, people would approach me, but I thought it would take longer."

"Does it bother you, that people see you as an extension of him?"

"Not this time. It bothered me a little when we were all on Ligos VIII last month, but I didn't realize it had until we were back home. But now? I don't know. There's a bunch of junior officers who have been calling me 'Mrs. Data' for a year now, and while I'd rather they knew my name, and it feels presumptuous to let them do it when we're not even engaged... I guess… I guess I'm okay with it. Especially since he…" I trailed off, not sure I wanted to share the words Data had given me with anyone yet.

"Especially since he what, Zoe?"

I considered making something up, or evading, but she'd be able to sense it, either way. "Especially since he told me he loves me." I say the words very quickly, as if I'm not entirely certain they're real.

"Zoe, that's wonderful!"

"It is," I said, beaming. "I mean… he said in a completely analytical and Data-ish way, but there is no character in any romance novel, or vid, or play that could have said it better if they were saying it to me." I feel my cheeks getting hot. "Wow, that was sappy."

"No, Zoe, it wasn't," Deanna was quick to assure. She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers. "I know that you would have been content to never hear those words - "

"But the fact that he couldn't was eating at him, I know." I chuckled softly. "Actually, I feel kind of powerful. I managed to make an android declare his love."

Troi's delighted laughter mingled with mine. "As well you should," she said.

I let the moment end, and spend a couple of minutes actually eating my go-to lunch: a chicken Caesar salad and iced tea. When I've picked all the chicken out of it I look back at Deanna. "So, I promised I'd tell you who my sparring partner is."

She leaned forward. "I confess, Zoe, in both a personal and professional capacity, I've been incredibly curious."

"I know," I told her. "But I couldn't tell you without his permission, and also, I kind of enjoyed that I had this secret."

"A little mystery never hurt anyone," Deanna agreed, "and I promise it will stay between us."

"Last year, in those first couple of weeks after my rape when I was trying to find something physical to burn off anger and energy?" I made it a question to jog her memory, and when she confirmed that she remembered the time in question, I went on. "Data was the poker game you all have, and I went to the gym, intending to use the Pilates studio, but on my way there, I saw an open workout room with a heavy bag hanging in it, that no one seemed to be using."

"And?" Even in personal lunches, Troi was an active listener.

"Well, I took a few experimental punches, and, let me tell you, those things aren't called 'heavy' without reason. I was about to take a wicked swing when the person who'd originally reserved the room showed up, and said, 'It's customary to ask before you take over a reserved training room.'" I did my best approximation of the captain's accent and cadence. It wasn't terribly good, but it was enough that she realized who I was trying to imitate.

"You crashed Captain Picard's workout."

"I did," I confirmed. "But he was pretty cool about it. He replicated gloves in my size and taught me proper stance. And when I had a meltdown and ended up bawling all over him, he was kind and gentle in incredibly tactful."

"Captain Picard cultivates his gruff persona to deter people from getting to close," Deanna shared. "What happened next?"

"The poker game had ended by then, and Data arrived to walk me home. The captain advised me to eat a light meal and take a shower before bed, and hydrate, and the next morning I had a message inviting me to come and 'continue my lessons.'" I cocked my head and peered at her. "You really had no idea?"

"None at all," Deanna affirmed. "I knew his mood was always lighter on the nights after our poker games, and you'd told me you were taking lessons, but I never put it together. I understand now, why he gave you such a personal gift on your birthday."

I ducked my head, embarrassed. "Yeah. When we… we warm up with the bag, but after a few weeks we started actually sparring. He can totally take me, but I've learned a lot, and the physicality helps."

"I'm glad it does."

"Me, too. The thing is though, we talk. In between bag work and actual boxing. Nothing important or lofty. My college plans come up a lot. Books we've read, stuff like that. And… he came to the holodeck to personally explain why Ensign Sutter wasn't being taken to the brig. But he didn't ask me to cancel the sailing program I was running, just went below and made tea to drink while we talked. And… he asked me if he might join me on a sailing trip sometime. And now he's not the captain, anymore, and I know it's selfish, but…."

"You're worried you won't get to spend more time with him?" Her tone was very gentle when she said it.

"Pretty much that, yes."

"I don't know the specifics of his mission. Data would know more, but – "

" – I never ask. About what you're all working on, I mean. Data and I have this tacit agreement that he'll tell me what he can, but I never ask."

"You know it's alright if you ask him – or me - don't you?"

The smile I favored her with was a wistful one. "I know." I didn't tell her that it was my choice not to ask about these things.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46364.16**

 **(Tuesday, 13 May 2369, 22:10 hours, ship's time)**

I had expected my boxing session with Captain Picard to be canceled – which it was – because Data informed me during a dinner-break on Sunday that had been far too short, that the trio being sent on this mysterious away mission would be in 'intense physical preparation until their departure on Wednesday.'

I had _not_ expected the annunciator to chime around ten at night, while Data and I were both engaged in quiet activities. I was updating my resume, at the request of my agent, Bernadette "Bernie" Stinson, and Data was revamping the duty shifts for the crew who reported directly to him. One of Commander Jellico's first acts as commanding officer had been to order a change from a three-shift schedule to one that had four, and I'd heard more than a few people grumbling about the change.

My hair was still damp from a bath, and I was barefoot, and dressed in one of Data's Academy tees and a pair of Yale sweatpants, while my partner was still in his duty uniform, so he got up to answer the door.

I couldn't tell who was on the other side of it, but Data returned to the main part of our quarters a moment later. "That was Ensign Wood with a package for you," he explained, offering me a rectangular parcel wrapped in brown kraft paper. "Do not worry, dearest. I do not believe it is another pigeon."

"Woody's got mail delivery duty?"

"This does not appear to have come through the usual mail system," Data said. "Perhaps instead of spending time in conjecture, you should simply open it." He joined me on the couch, and I set my padd and stylus aside so I could take the package from him.

"Sure, be all logical about it," I grumbled, but it was a good-natured complaint. Still, Data remained there, next to me, as I ripped open the paper. He had been correct: it wasn't a pigeon.

It was a book.

Specifically, it was an obviously old edition of a novel called _Master and Commander._ The cover, which bore the image of a centuries-old Naval sailing ship – the kind with three masts - wasn't lying flat against the bound pages, however, and when I opened it to see why, I found an envelope – good quality cream-colored paper, with my name written on it in peacock blue ink.

I gave the book to Data, and opened the envelope, drawing out a piece of stiff cardstock with the _Chateau Picard_ logo at the top. I recognized it from the nutcracker I'd opened in the captain's presence while the man I loved was jaunting through time, the previous December.

"It's from Captain Picard," I said, puzzlement evident in my tone. I scanned the handwriting. It wasn't angular and crisp like Data's, but there was something authoritative in the weight of the crosses on the t's and the dots on the i's. "He says that since I love the sea, and 'have a penchant for pirates' he thought I might enjoy a boyhood favorite of his. "'This volume is yours to keep,'" I read aloud, "'but if you enjoy it, as I suspect you will, the remaining eighteen novels are available in the ship's entertainment library.' Have _you_ read these?" I asked.

"I have not. However, if you would like me to, I would be happy to download the text so that we can discuss the novel when you have finished it."

"Any chance you'd be willing to experience the story a different way?"

"Please elaborate?" Data encouraged.

I settled back into my corner of the couch, stretched my feet out so they rested on his lap, and explained, "I read a page; you read a page." Without waiting for his response, I opened the book and began to read the book out loud:

 _The music room in the Governor's House at Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet. The players, Italians pinned against the far wall by rows and rows of little round gilt chairs, were playing with passionate conviction as they mounted towards the penultimate crescendo, towards the tremendous pause and the deep, liberating final chord. And on the little gilt chairs at least some of the audience were following the rise with an equal intensity: there were two in the third row, on the left-hand side; and they happened to be sitting next to one another. The listener farther to the left was a man of between twenty and thirty whose big form overflowed his seat, leaving only a streak of gilt wood to be seen here and there. He was wearing his best uniform – the white lapelled blue coat, white waistcoat, and breeches and stockings of a lieutenant in the Royal Navy…_

Alternating pages, Data and I finished the first chapter that night, but later, in bed, I found myself tossing and turning, until gentle gold hands stilled my movements and a soft tenor asked, "Zoe, what is troubling you?"

I sat up in bed, using those few seconds to organize my thoughts. "I heard people talking about Cardassians in Ten-Forward today. All these changes to schedules… Captain Jellico taking over the _Enterprise,_ Captain Picard, Dr. Crusher, and Lt. Worf being sent on some mysterious detached assignment… Data, are we going to war?" It was the closest I had gotten to asking for information I likely wasn't supposed to have.

But my awesome boyfriend seemed to sense that I needed something to reassure me. "There are details of our current assignment that I cannot share with you, dearest, but the rumors of Cardassian activity are not entirely unfounded. However, at this time it is unlikely that the Federation will engage."

"But we are close to the DMZ, aren't we?" I'd heard enough, from him, and from others, to know where we were in space.

"We are, and we will be hosting a Cardassian delegation. It is unlike you to worry without cause, Zoe. Is there something provoking this line of thinking." It was his gentle way of telling me I was letting my imagination get the better of me.

"Only that I'm a horrible person. I know that three of your colleagues – of our friends – are doing something secret and dangerous, and as much as I want all of them to accomplish their task and come back safely, I'm equally thankful that it's not you."

"You are not horrible," Data's response came with no hesitation. "You are human, and it is normal for you to feel this way. If our positions were reversed, I would be preoccupied with gratitude that you were safe and well and with me."

"Promise?"

"Always."

Accepting that, I eased myself back down under the covers, and cuddled close to him. He'd opted not to work in bed that night, and I was grateful for his attention. "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe."

"The… the thing you said on Thursday night… it wasn't a one-time event, was it?"

"It was not."

"Then, could you say it again?"

He gathered me close and kissed the top of my head. I smiled against his chest. "I am devoted to you, Zoe. I love you."

That faint quiver was still there, in his voice. When my head was clearer, I had a ton of questions to ask him, starting with that. In the moment, however, I gave him the four words I'd previously given him in response to half a dozen other phrases.

"I love you, too."

 _ **To Be Continued**_

* * *

 **Notes:**

First, an apology. This chapter was never intended to take so long, and I'm sorry for the wait. My sojourn into the Mirror CrushVerse earlier this year was meant to be brief. Apparently, I suck at brief. I know: this shocked you. Following that trip into the dark side of Trek, I had my annual project, The Dog Days of Podcasting in which 30 or so podcast geeks commit to each produce a show every day during the month of August. Yes, 31 shows, 31 days, all original content, and did I mention we all listen to each other's stuff as well?

On the last day of August, we got the call that my mother-in-law had died. She'd been sick for a couple of years, but no matter how prepared you think you are, you never really are. We spent a bit over a week in South Dakota, driving 13 hours each way, for the funeral, the burial, and some family stuff we had to handle.

Now, I'd had a sinus infection at the end of July, and I'd had a z-pack that was supposed to knock it out, but it really only went dormant. When I got home from South Dakota, stress and exhaustion combined with my essentially non-existent immune system to knock me flat with pneumonia. As I write this, I still have a few more days of super-scary antibiotics to take.

Okay, enough about that.

"How Sweet It Is (to Be Loved by You)" was written by the Motown songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland, and first recorded by Marvin Gaye in 1964. It was established in the first chapter of my story _Auld Lang Syne_ that Zoe likes Motown. "Perhaps Love," was written by John Denver, and originally recorded as a duet with Placido Domingo, in 1981. It was meant as a gift for his wife Annie, though they were divorced shortly after. The version Data sings to Zoe is not a duet, but the solo version Denver included as a bonus track on the 1998 reissue of _Rocky Mountain Christmas._

Deborah Jellico, and the Jellico's son Franklin (age ten, you'll meet him later) were originally referenced in the script for this episode (the son still is but not by name), but the scene was cut. She appears in expanded universe fiction. I gave her the nickname Deb.

 _Master and Commander_ is the first in a series of novels by Patrick O'Brien. (You might have heard of or seen the movie that was made several years ago.) On the surface, it's just an adventure on the high seas, but the deeper story explores the educated naval officer's moral dichotomy between scientific exploration and war as experienced during the Age of Sail and the Napoleonic Wars, with threads that discuss commercial sailing, and colonialism, as well.

I also want to warn you that we have now reached the point where there will be divergence from canon. Events you know from the show will still occur in the order they originally did, but Zoe has been a catalyst for some pretty big changes in Data's self and in his life, and her very presence means that he will react differently. It's still a close-canon AU, just… not quite _as_ close.

As always, thank you for reading. Your comments are better than chocolate.


	10. Enemies Foreign and Domestic - Part II

**Enemies Foreign and Domestic – Part II**

 **Stardate 46373.34**

 **(Saturday, 17 May 2369, 06:30 hours, ship's time)**

It was the comm-signal that woke me, and even though I knew the call was for Data, I couldn't help sitting up in bed. I didn't typically eavesdrop on his communications, but since he was in the bed with me, it wasn't exactly hard to hear.

"Data here," my partner said, after tapping the comm-badge that was resting on his nightstand.

The voice that came over the tiny speaker was that of Captain Jellico – I'd heard it in several other comm-calls over the previous few days – and as usual, he got right to business. "Data, I need you in the briefing room ASAP for a debriefing with Dr. Crusher and Lt. Worf."

I couldn't help the audible gasp I let out. If only two members of the away team were reporting to be debriefed, it meant that the third member, Captain Picard, was either injured or missing. Ignoring my reaction, my partner responded to his commanding officer, "I will be there, sir."

If the man on the other end of the comm-link had heard my non-verbal noise, he didn't let on. He said only, "We'll be meeting in twenty minutes. Jellico out."

"I am afraid we will have to forego our weekend plans," Data told me, his tone apologetic. Unspoken was his estimate of the likelihood that he'd be returning to quarters any time soon – a number hovering close to zero percent. "I will contact you when I know more."

I fought to keep annoyance out of my own voice, to keep things light, and be supportive. "It's fine, love, really. As much as I was looking forward to tackling the duets for cello and oboe today, it's been a long week and the opportunity to lounge around in bed dozing and reading is hardly terrible."

He leaned sideways to kiss me, and then left the bed to get ready for duty. I indulged myself by ogling his nude form as he moved from bedroom to bathroom, and back, but once he was in his uniform my mood shifted slightly, and I asked the question, after all. "Data… I know you can't give me details – especially details you don't yet know – but… Captain Jellico's phrasing… Captain Picard didn't return with the others, did he?"

"While I agree that your interpretation is plausible," he responded, "I am unable to confirm anything at this time." He hesitated, and I lifted my chin to better meet his eyes. "I will tell you what I can, when I can," he promised. "Zoe… please do not let worry keep you from rest. At this point you have only conjecture, and I am aware that your imagination is… vivid."

"I promise to try," I said. "Go be awesome."

That earned me a slight uplifting of his eyebrows and an infinitesimal shake of his head, as I knew it would. Then he was gone, and I was too wired to go right back to sleep, but too tired to really do anything else. Most of my friends would be lingering in bed at least til ten – school wasn't yet over, and there were only a few weekends left of senior year, but my own routine didn't mesh with theirs any more, and hadn't for months. I set an alarm for zero-eight-thirty, and snuggled back into the bed, pulling Data's pillow into my arms. I caught the faint scent of his pomade – he'd accepted the sort of spicy-aquatic variation I'd snuck into our medicine cabinet without comment – and I smiled into the cotton as I closed my eyes. A moment later, Spot returned to the bed, curling up against the small of my back, rather than going after my hair, and a moment after that, I was asleep.

Ten-Forward was unusually busy for a Saturday morning. Unusually busy, and oddly quiet. Every table was full, but instead of the usual buzz of conversation, one that often included conversations exchanged between tables, everyone seemed to be whispering.

I made my way to the bar, intending to grab one of the few open stools, but Guinan caught me before I could. "There's a better place for you to sit," she said. "Come with me."

Arguing with Guinan is about as productive as trying to out-logic Data, so I followed where she led, pausing when she stopped abruptly at a table already occupied by a dark-haired woman. "Deborah, have you met Zoe? She's a student intern in protocol and the partner of – "

"…Lt. Commander Data," Deb finished the sentence. "Admiral Nechayev introduced us several days ago." She glanced up at the El Aurian woman, then turned her attention to me. "Zoe, I've been remiss. I should have reached out to you. I haven't even ordered yet – join me?" She glanced around, then added softly, "If you don't want to wait an hour, I'm pretty much your only option."

"If you're sure…" I began, but the truth was, I liked Deborah Jellico, and I knew the reason she had a table to herself was that no one else would approach. I cut off my own waffling beginning, and took the seat opposite her. "Actually, I'd love to join you. Thank you, Guinan, I'm really glad you brought me over here."

"I'll be back in a moment, unless you're ready to order?" the Hostess said, but she and I shared a private look. I knew she'd brought me to Deb's table to make a point to the crew.

"A salmon and spinach omelet with goat cheese, and a side of rosemary potatoes," I requested, since I knew the menu pretty much by heart. "And a double cappuccino, please."

Deb ordered an omelet as well – tomato, mushroom, and sausage – and duplicated my coffee request. Once we were alone, she asked, "The lounge isn't typically this subdued, is it?"

"Not usually, no," I confirmed. Pitching my voice low, I continued, "Look, I know you probably don't know anything, and can't tell me if you did, but… I know Lt. Worf and Dr. Crusher returned this morning. I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing Captain Picard didn't come back with them."

"Data didn't tell you?"

"Data didn't know… he was called to the conference room at zero-six-thirty, and we talked a bit while he was getting dressed, but… I'm a civilian, I'm technically a student, and I try really hard _not_ to ask about ship's business."

The older woman seemed surprised by that. "Why, Zoe? It's true you don't have clearance, but most officers speak to their spouses about things that the rest of the crew would never be told. Part of our role is to give our partners an outlet, a safe place to release the things that can't be shared otherwise."

"I don't doubt that, Deb, really, but Data and I aren't married. We've talked about it as a future goal, but I'm eighteen, I'm heading to Yale in a few months, and he's an android. He doesn't have that need to vent that we organics have. I mean, some of the junior officers tease me – they call me Mrs. Data – but, except for medical powers of attorney and declared next-of-kin, there's really nothing legal between us."

"Did either of you consult your SOAR representative when you moved in together?"

"I don't even know what SOAR is."

Deb seemed surprised by my statement. "You've never had to transfer stations with your mother?"

I shook my head. "Until she was aboard the _Enterprise,_ I lived on Centaurus with my father, except when he dumped me with my grandmother."

"And when you came to the ship, you didn't meet with a SOAR representative, or a volunteer who helped you transition?"

Another head-shake. "No. I met with Ms. Phelps, who's the director of the high school, and then later, I spoke to Data directly about joining his tutorial in advanced mathematics, but… no."

Deb gave the kind of nod that people do when information is falling into place inside their heads. Pausing when a server brought our meal – Guinan, I noticed, was behind the bar chatting with a stressed-looking Commander Riker – she continued the conversation as soon as we were alone once more. "SOAR is the Starfleet Office of Assistance and Resources. It's a volunteer organization made up of officers' spouses and partners, as well as a few officers themselves, mostly those who are single parents or who have trailing families."

"Trailing… families?"

"When someone gets assigned to a ship or starbase and their family doesn't travel with them, but arrives later." I nodded. It made sense. "SOAR provides resources – how to transfer school records, how to enroll students in shipboard schools, how to change your paperwork when your status changes – "

" – like the medical powers of attorney Data and I did?" I asked, cutting her off. I tacked on a sheepish, "Sorry."

But Deb smiled. "It's fine, Zoe. Yes, like the paperwork you and Data did. He probably also registered your relationship as a domestic partnership to give you access to a greater number of ship's services."

I recalled a months-old conversation with Data about changes to the replicator menus, and how I wouldn't have had access to make requests when I was Mom's dependent. "We went over a lot of paperwork," I agreed. "I just didn't know it had anything to do with SOAR."

"Well, Data may not have gone through their office."

"He _is_ head of ship's operations," I clarified. "In any case, I'm realizing now that I _have_ interacted with SOAR. There's a monthly teen brunch where we're encouraged to mix with some of the more visible members of the crew, and learn about what they do off-duty."

"Sounds like a SOAR event," Deb agreed grinning. Then she sobered. "In times of war, SOAR provides comfort and support both to families and to officers who may be disconnected from their families for months on end, and when command is transferred abruptly – as it just was here – SOAR also works with the Counselor's office to ensure a smooth transition."

"So, they handle morale?"

"In a sense, but it goes beyond that. Zoe, as the dependent of an officer, you should have been under SOAR's wing the second you moved to the _Enterprise_. As the partner of another officer – and a line officer at that – you should have, at the very least, been invited to attend a meeting and get to know the on-board chapter."

"I'm guessing as the spouse of a captain, you're accustomed to _leading_ such a chapter?"

"It's not strictly required," she was quick to assure, "but, yes, I've chosen to be involved. Of course, every chapter is different."

"Captain Picard doesn't have a partner – or if he does, he keeps it incredibly discrete." I used present tense when speaking of him because I didn't know for sure that he hadn't returned, and until I was told otherwise, I'd resolved to believe that even if he wasn't on the ship, he was still alive. "I mean, people speculate, but…"

"I understand," Deb said. "I'm fortunate that my job allows me to travel with Edward and our son." She paused, using the time to eat some of her omelet and sip from her cup. When she spoke again, it was in a lighter tone, as she explained, "I'm a writer. I've published a series of children's books. Maybe you've heard of _Sasha the Sehlat_?"

"I bought one of the plush sehlats from that book for my baby brother!" I exclaimed. "And the book, though he's too young to do more than chew on the corners. Gia – that's my stepmother – says he loves the rhythm of the language, though."

Nodding, Deb confirmed, "Most young children respond to the rhymes and the alliteration." She favored me with a knowing smile, "Many adults do, as well."

From there, our conversation became much more social, covering books, music, fashion, and even media. Finally, our plates and cups (which had been refilled at least twice) were empty and we ended our morning, but not before a couple of people had approached our table seeking reassurance. One had been one of the younger officers I'd met through Ray, and I'd assured him that funky shift changes were normal when command changed. (I'd asked Lasso about it when it had happened) the other was someone I didn't know, but who recognized me as 'the one some of the science guys call 'Mrs. Data.'

She was an ensign on her first tour – not much older than I was – and she really just wanted to know if Captain Jellico could be trusted. "Starfleet doesn't let people they don't trust command starships," I told her, keeping my tone gentle. Then I deferred to Deb. "This is Captain Jellico's wife. I'm sure she could reassure you better than I can."

I watched as Deb jumped in to do just that, asking the nervous woman where she was from and if she was enjoying her post on the _Enterprise_. I didn't take notes, of course, but watching her interact taught me a lot about how to be more confident in similar situations where I had to be supportive without having any real information.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46374.30**

 **(Saturday, 17 May 2369, 14:52 hours, ship's time)**

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Dana asked. She, Josh, and I were all in her family's quarters, staring out the window at the Cardassian ship hovering off to starboard. Of course, we weren't really seeing what was directly outside – space is black, and starships aren't small, and unless they're docking they typically stay a couple hundred kilometers apart – but a representation of what we'd be seeing if all those things weren't the case.

"Cardassians off the starboard bow, you mean?" Josh asked. "Yeah, we're seeing it."

"They're more amidships than forward," I observed, and then I added, "I've been spending way too much time with Data, haven't I?"

"Is there too much time when you're totally in love?" Dana teased.

"Alright, then, I've been letting him rub off on me – "

"Rub off?" Josh arched an eyebrow at me. "Dirty."

Laughing, I shook my head. "I give up," I said. "You win." But my laughter dissipated almost instantly. "Data's been on duty almost constantly since Captain Jellico took over," I share. "And this morning in Ten-Forward… we're not at war, but everyone seems tense and on edge, and I'm not sure how to handle it."

"Dad threatened to confine me to quarters," Dana admitted. "Ethan's on an engineering rotation, and they've got some big project, so I've barely seen him, and when he's off-duty he's exhausted, but he says it's better if I'm there."

"Captain Jellico was one of the authors of the original treaty between the Federation and the Cardassians," I point out. I don't tell them that I know about the project in Engineering; nor do I confess that I'd asked Data about going to war. "I have to believe that he knows what he's doing."

"But there's a Cardi delegation on the ship, isn't there?" Josh asked.

"There's a _Cardassian_ delegation on the ship, yes." I knew my correction made me sound prissy, but it had always bothered me when people used terms like that. "Sorry," I add, more as a concession to our friendship than anything else. "I work in Protocol."

But Josh wasn't offended. He just shrugged and turned back to the window.

We all hung out for a bit longer, but eventually Josh left to find his girlfriend Nedra, who worked in the ship's pre-school, and Dana had a comm from Ethan, and I went back home, where I picked up Data's guitar and strummed it idly, more for something to do than because I was actually playing anything real. I couldn't, really – I still hadn't had my first lesson.

I was still strumming when my partner came into our quarters, but I stopped as soon as he spoke my name.

"You're home," I observed. "Are you staying?"

"Only briefly. Captain Jellico has requested that both of us join him in the ready room at eighteen-hundred hours. I came to escort you."

I glanced down at the jeans and pullover I'd been wearing most of the day, and launched my barrage of questions with, "Do I have time to change? I can't meet the captain wearing this. Why does he want to see both of us? Is he sending you on an away mission? What should I wear?"

"It is only one quarter past seventeen-hundred," Data informed me. "If I knew the answers to your questions I would answer them while you changed. As I do not, I will leave you to – "

I interrupted him with a kiss.

"Zoe, it is not an optimal time for – "

I kissed him again, and smiled against his lips when his hands went to my waist to pull me closer against him. I ended the kiss when I had to breathe, though. "Don't worry, love, I'm not trying to seduce you. I just needed a few minutes of concentrated us-time."

"I understand," he said. He claimed my lips for one more kiss, then pushed me slightly away. "I believe any of your nicer outfits – trousers would be acceptable – will do. Captain Jellico did not specify formal dress."

"Gotcha." I flipped through several of the items in our closet, eventually choosing black pencil-leg pants, a crisp white blouse, and a Mediterranean blue sweater-vest that I pulled on over the blouse. It was the outfit I'd worn for my Yale interview and it made me feel both confident and capable of handling anything. I slid my feet into black heels, and stepped into the bathroom to run a brush through my hair and freshen my make-up. "Well?" I asked.

Data took the time to study my outfit before responding. "You are always aesthetically pleasing to me, Zoe. I am certain this outfit will be appropriate."

"I'm glad one of us is," I muttered, but when he opened his mouth to pursue the topic further, I waved him away. "I'm just nervous," I said. "It's been a weird day. Everything feels all discombobulated… and the Cardassian ship off to starboard isn't helping."

"My day has also been colored by tension and unease," Data said. "Unfortunately, there is little I can tell you that will assure you that we will be o-kay."

He moved toward the door, which opened, but I pulled him back, and let it slide closed again before I asked, "Can you confirm one thing? Was I right about Captain Picard not returning with the others?"

"I -" I wasn't sure if he was going to claim he couldn't tell me, or not, but something seemed to shift behind his eyes, and he said, "You were correct. The captain is being held at a shielded facility in Cardassian space."

"And they're sending you to get him out?" It was a valid assumption.

"Captain Jellico is not mounting a rescue mission at this time," Data told me.

I had no good response to that, so I just looped my arm through his as we moved through the door together.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46374.67**

 **(Saturday, 17 May 2369, 18:07 hours, ship's time)**

Data and I arrived for our meeting with Captain Jellico two minutes ahead of schedule, but he was in the middle of a vid-chat with some Gul – I didn't catch the name, only the title – and gestured for us to take seats. Captain Picard's couch remained in the room, but except for that and the desk itself, the space retained nothing of its former occupant.

Where Picard had kept a fish tank, Jellico had a solid wall covered with a child's artwork. Where Picard had a volume of Shakespeare, Jellico had a holographic display, though it was currently inactive. Gone, also, were the various objects d'art that had made the room seem so much more than just an office. I shivered slightly, realizing how very _permanent_ Jellico's tenure on the _Enterprise_ was intended to be.

Deborah Jellico entered the room a few minutes after us, and ensured that we were offered drinks, but we both declined, and before she could offer a second time, or even make quiet small-talk, her husband finished his call and came to join us, sitting in one of the club chairs that also remained in the room, and urging us, "Don't get up. There'll be time for formality in a few minutes. Ms. Harris, it's a pleasure to meet you – may I call you Zoe?"

"I'd prefer it, sir, and it's good to meet you also."

"My wife says the two of you have already met?"

Deb corrected him, "I think you could safely say that Zoe and I are becoming friends."

"Definitely," I confirmed.

"Very well," he answered. His words were curt, but there was nothing cold about the man, and his open expression hinted at a person who was probably quite gregarious when not on duty. "Earlier this evening I was forced to remove Commander Riker from duty. Normally, I would simply make Mr. Data my acting first officer, and have a formal promotion ceremony at the end of the quarter, but with all the changes this crew has seen, I recognize that a show of stability is important for morale."

He glanced at Deb, then, and I had the distinct impression it was she who had actually done the recognizing. When I followed his gaze, the other woman gave a slight nod in my direction, silently confirming my theory. I resolved to ask her about it at another time.

Data spoke up, then. "Sir, I am confused. Serving as acting first officer does not require a change in rank."

"No, it doesn't, Data. But you've been serving at second officer here for six years, and you were second officer of the _Trieste_ before you transferred to the _Enterprise,_ and it was you who commanded the _Sutherland_ and discovered the Romulan convoy in the battle against the Duras sisters. I don't know why you haven't applied for promotion, and I don't have time to find out. You're overdue for one, and I'm going to correct that. Please rise."

As if the order from Jellico had flipped a switch in his brain, Data responded, "Aye, sir," and rose smoothly to his feet.

Deb caught my eye and we both stood up as well.

"Zoe, have you ever been to a formal promotion ceremony?" Jellico's query was professional, but not unkind.

Shaking my head, I answered, "No, sir. When my mother was promoted to Lt. Commander, she didn't even tell me."

"I assume you were resentful about being a 'fleet brat at the time."

"Yes, sir."

"But no longer." It wasn't a question, and I didn't respond. He continued, "Historically, a naval officer's wife or mother would be the one to attach new rank epaulets to his shoulder tabs, but we don't wear epaulets in Starfleet, so instead, you'll remove his existing pips, and replace them with new ones."

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask why they didn't just change the one pip that changed – in this case from open to full – but I chose to hold that question to ask Data, later. I simply answered, "Yes, sir," and moved to do as I was asked.

It was a surprisingly intimate act, removing the pips from Data's collar. My fingers brushed his skin, and I blushed when my breath caught. But once the gold discs had been removed, the plain black of the fabric reminded me of waking up after he'd stuck Lore's data-solid in his head over a year before. I could feel the beginning of a flashback, and I think he sensed it, because he moved his hand slightly to touch my hip, then let it drop. I took a measured breath, met his eyes, and found comfort and stability in that steadfast yellow gaze – enough to finish my task.

Deborah Jellico held out her hand to accept Data's old pips, answering my unvoiced question at the same time. "We always exchange all the pips so the finishes match. It wouldn't do to have one shiny new pip next to two that are somewhat worn."

I smiled my thanks for her explanation, and turned back to Captain Jellico, who held out a tray with three full pips. "Data," he intoned. "With the authority given to me as commanding officer of this vessel, and with the approval of Starfleet Command, I hereby promote you to the rank of Commander, with all the rights and duties so assigned."

He waited for me to affix the new rank insignia on my partner's collar and then step back, before he executed a crisp salute, which Data matched.

"Congratulations, Commander," Jellico said.

"Thank you, sir."

"I'm afraid there's no time for celebration, but I have one more order of business before we get back to running the ship. You and Zoe currently have quarters on deck eight, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I prefer my exec to be closer to the bridge. There's an available suite on deck two, I'm authorizing the quartermaster to reassign you there. It's an exterior suite, larger than your current quarters. Confirm with the quartermaster when it's ready, and have them transfer your belongings. You should be moved by end of day tomorrow. Get it done."

"Aye, sir." Data could be as curt as Jellico at times.

I saw Deb touch her husband's arm, and caught the two sharing a look. "Very well. Commander Data, meet me back on the bridge in two hours. Zoe, thank you for joining us. I hope to get to know you better. You're dismissed."

He shook my hand briefly as he was talking and then Data and I left, but behind us, I heard him tell Deb, "Let's go have dinner. I promised Franklin another chapter tonight." I smiled softly appreciating the knowledge that the by-the-book commanding officer was also a family man.

I was silent on the way back home, and when we entered our quarters I went immediately to the couch and collapsed onto it.

"Dearest, are you alright?" Data came to sit with me.

"I'm not entirely certain. Did that just happen? Did I really just pin new pips on your collar?"

"It really happened," he said.

"And we're moving?"

"That is what Captain Jellico ordered, yes. Do you object?"

"I don't know. When he says 'larger,' what does that mean, exactly?"

"We can go look, if you wish."

"Right, like you don't have access to the floor plan." I hadn't intended to pick a fight with him.

"I can access the floor plan if that is your preference, however, I believe you would benefit more from looking at the space." He peered at me, assessing my status. "Perhaps we should have dinner first."

Hunger did tend to bring out my snarky side. "Dinner sounds good. Vegetarian moussaka?"

"I will replicate it."

I joined him at the table a few minutes later, and observed. "Captain Jellico is very different from Captain Picard, but he doesn't seem as evil as the murmurings from the crew implied."

"His command style is more military and less diplomatic than Captain Picard's," Data confirmed. "If the crew believes him to be evil it is likely a reaction to the change in duty shifts, the demands Captain Jellico has made, and the fact that Captain Picard was replaced at all."

"Yeah, I figured as much. I had brunch with Deb this morning."

"Deb?"

"Mrs. Jellico? Deborah? She prefers to be called Deb." I waited for him to acknowledge that, then continued. "She seemed surprised that no one had approached me about getting involved with SOAR, given the nature of our relationship." I was watching his face very carefully as I spoke. "You've said that you'd never require me to take on any role I didn't feel comfortable with. Did you tell the leader of the chapter here not to contact me?"

If you knew what to look for – and I did – even Data had 'tells.' His eyes flickered slightly, and his expression smoothed into something completely impassive. "I did not wish you to feel pressure."

"I checked the ship's bulletin board." It wasn't a physical board, of course, but a community announcement archive on the computer system. "The next SOAR meeting is Monday night. I think… I think I'd like to check it out, but I'm not sure how to present myself. Do I go as Zoe Harris, student, or do I go as Commander Data's partner?"

"You speak as though those are different people," he pointed out.

"Sometimes I feel like I _am_ two different people," I said, making my tone a bit wry. "I've stopped thinking of boyfriend-you and officer-you as separate entities though, so there's that."

"I had noticed that you seemed more comfortable discussing ship's business recently."

"Deanna suggested I might ask you to tell me more, and let you determine what I shouldn't hear, rather than not asking at all. Deb mentioned that officers' partners are unofficially exempt from some clearance restrictions, at least in private, but…"

"I will always tell you what I can," he reminded me. "Again, I believed it was wiser to let you determine the level of information you wish to have." He paused, and added, "If your concern is that we have no legal standing as a couple, you may dismiss it. We are registered domestic partners. For Starfleet's purposes, there is little difference."

"If I weren't heading off to Yale in a few months, I'd be concerned. Right now? I guess I just need some guidance in finding balance. If I were older or if we were already married – and yes, I know that it wouldn't make us any more or less committed to each other than we already are; it's a legal and social construct - I'd have no problem getting involved with SOAR, and working up to the kind of leadership role that Deborah Jellico has, but her work is something she can do from anywhere – she writes children's books – and she also has a child. I really _am_ just a student, though, which means I can go check out a meeting, but I can't really commit to anything. It's just another way I feel all betwixt and between, and I'm sorry, this should be a happy dinner, Mr. Just-Got-Promoted, and all I'm doing is whining."

"You are not whining, Zoe, merely voicing valid concerns."

"And _you_ are being too kind." I set down my silverware, and finished the last of my glass of water. "I'm ready to look at our new quarters now."

"I will be ready in a moment." Data disappeared into our bedroom while I recycled the used dishes and tableware. When he reappeared, he was still sporting the three brand new pips on his collar, but his uniform jacket was command red.

I couldn't help staring. He'd worn red shirts before. I'd chosen one of the ones he wore most frequently, in fact, but I'd never seen him in any uniform but ops gold. "Data?"

"Should Commander Riker be reinstated as first officer, I will retain my promotion, but revert to my former uniform."

"But you didn't wear red when you were _captain_ of the _Sutherland_."

"As we discussed when we spoke of that experience, it was a temporary assignment, and my rank did not change, only my position. Captain Jellico prefers a more formal atmosphere on the bridge, and has requested that I wear red."

"Why don't you, all the time? You're third in command – second, now – how does being head of Operations trump that?"

"It is simply an idiosyncrasy of Starfleet Uniform Code," he explained. "Shall we?" He gestured toward the door.

As usual, my boyfriend had been right: seeing our new quarters was vastly preferable to looking at a floor plan. Our existing space had a living/dining room and a bedroom directly 'behind' it, with an attached bathroom, and it was on an interior bulkhead – no window. This new space had a larger live/work space, but it also had small corridor leading to the bathroom, which, in turn had doors leading to each of the bedrooms. As Captain Jellico had said, it was on an exterior bulkhead, so the living area and the bigger bedroom had windows. "This is for us?" I asked.

"It is what Captain Jellico believes we should have."

I walked through the space, picturing the furniture we already owned, and imagining different possibilities. "If we made the interior bedroom into a den," I said, "you'd be able to host poker night even if I was home, because I wouldn't feel trapped in the bedroom."

"The larger living area will also support a workstation for you, if you would like one," Data commented.

"Sure, now that I finally feel comfortable using yours," I teased. "I like our current quarters," I added, "but this gives us a little more breathing room. I just have one question."

"Zoe?"

"Will they move my bathtub?"

"I will insist upon it."

I moved to the living room window and stared through my reflection at the cold blackness of space. The person I saw staring back at me looked so much older than eighteen, and yet, there was an air of confidence that I hadn't noticed in myself before. "Data, could you come here?"

He joined me at the window, but instead of standing next to me, he slipped his arms around me from behind, clasping his hands just beneath my breasts. It was a little weird seeing him in red – my head still expected gold – but I smiled at his reflection, and he nuzzled my hair. "May I assume that you approve of our new home?"

"I do, very much so," I confirmed. I turned in his arms. "Congratulations, _Commander_ ," I said, and kissed him. "Officer-hot is even hotter with you wearing red," I added, whispering the words against his mouth.

Unsurprisingly, Data's response was a non-verbal, "Hmm."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46376.49**

 **(Sunday, 18 May 2369, 10:02 hours, ship's time)**

Captain Jellico had given us until the end of Sunday to relocate to our new quarters, but he'd underestimated android speed and resourcefulness. Data had returned to our quarters at twenty-three hours, and by zero-one-hundred all our belongings had been packed and ready for transport. It helped, I suppose, that he was a bit of a neat-freak, and I'd been slowly adopting his habits.

At zero-eight hundred a team from Maintenance had come to move the pieces of furniture that weren't standard issue – including my bathtub and Data's computer – and install them in our new space, and by zero-nine-thirty – our belongings had been moved as well. We still had to unpack, of course, but I had the day to do a lot of that, and didn't mind in the slightest.

I hadn't told my friends about the promotion or the move, and I wasn't expecting company, so I was surprised when the door chime sounded just half an hour after my partner returned to duty. "Come in," I called.

The door _swooshed_ open to reveal Counselor Troi, wearing a standard duty uniform in Science blue, which was also the color for medical personnel. "Good morning, Zoe; am I interrupting anything?"

I smiled and shook my head. "Only unpacking, and Data's so good at organizing, there's very little to do." I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "Is there something wrong?"

But the counselor shook her head, and maintained her smile. "Not at all. I just came to see your new space, and see how you were doing."

My stomach growled, and I blushed. In all the hustle and bustle of the morning, I hadn't eaten. "Hungry," I answered honestly. "Do you have time for a coffee or hot chocolate while I eat something? I skipped breakfast this morning."

"Hot chocolate would be lovely," she said.

I replicated two of the slightly sweet drinks, as well as a half order of French toast with a side of bacon, and gestured for Troi to join me at the table. "Aside from hungry," I told her, "I think I'm okay. I wish Data's promotion had happened differently, and I'm sorry for whatever happened between Will and Captain Jellico…" I trailed off. Deanna would fill in the blanks, or not.

"Let's just say their personalities don't mesh well," she answered diplomatically. "Will has restricted himself to quarters, in order not to confuse the crew, but I'm sure after he and Captain Jellico have both cooled off things will improve."

"I hope so," I said. "There's enough tension with Cardassians aboard, and their ship's hovering off to starboard, and people still settling into new schedules. In a lot of ways, I'm the least affected, and I'm still feeling it."

"Well, even if you're not affected directly, you were close to Captain Picard, and you've probably become used to Data's typical schedule."

"Fair point," I agreed. I set my fork down. "Deanna? Is it wrong that I'm terrified?"

"Terrified?"

"I'm an eighteen-year-old student and I'm dating the first officer of Starfleet's flagship. Okay, it's likely Data's only _acting_ first officer, but still… I was visible enough before. People ask me about things because they think I have information, but I don't know any more than anyone else, and I feel so stupid and inadequate and _young_ when I have to admit there's nothing I can say. What if I make a mistake? What if I embarrass him? I had a total meltdown when we got back from Ligos VIII last month."

To her credit, Troi didn't immediately counter that Data couldn't _actually_ experience embarrassment. Instead she set her cup aside and folded her hands on the table. "What if you're worrying over nothing? As you know, Data is greatly respected by the crew. From what I've heard, you are well-liked. You don't need to act any differently just because Data's been promoted. Just be as gracious and poised as you always are in public, and hold your 'meltdowns' until you're at home. If you can't, or you need help, come see me."

"It's going to add a new element to the SOAR meeting tomorrow."

Dark eyebrows lifted over equally dark eyes. "You're attending a SOAR meeting?"

I nodded. "Cress Parish – was late to quartet rehearsal the other week because she was doing something for SOAR and Deb – Deborah Jellico? – was surprised that I wasn't involved somehow already, either as a volunteer or as someone who needed resources. Data asked them not to contact me because he didn't want me to feel pressured to join, but he neglected to suggest that _I_ contact _them._ I don't think he realized I didn't know what SOAR was."

"And now that you do…?"

I shrugged. "I'm checking out a meeting. I can't commit to doing anything because I'm leaving for Earth in like three months, but I can at least see what they do for myself."

Deanna smiled. "I think that's an excellent idea."

"Still terrified though."

"Has that stopped you before?"

I managed a chuckle. "Practically never. I was terrified the first time I spoke to Data, too." I was silent a moment, remembering that first encounter in Ten-Forward at one of the teen brunches I'd mentioned to Deb. "It was when I asked to be admitted to his math tutorial. I was convinced he'd see how ordinary I was – not to mention math-impaired – and dismiss me out of hand."

"Obviously, he didn't."

I shook my head, smiling at the memory. "No. He immediately insisted I use his name instead of his title, and then offered to help if I didn't understand the assignments I'd missed."

"That sounds like him," Troi said.

"I'm proud of him, you know," I said. "I still wish his promotion had happened differently, as I said, but I'm incredibly proud of him. They had me pin his new pips on."

Dark eyebrows lifted over equally dark eyes. "That's an old-school ceremony. I didn't know captains still did that."

I shrugged. "Apparently, this one does." I pushed my plate away. "I'm glad you stopped by, Deanna."

Another smile lit her features as she got up to leave. "So am I." She took a beat, looking around what she could see of my new home. "These rooms suit you, Zoe. You and Data. Be happy here."

I favored her with a smile to match her own. "I'm pretty sure we will be."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46380.26**

 **(Monday, 19 May 2369, 19:07 hours, ship's time)**

"… and so, before we get started with our official agenda, I have a newcomer – no, sorry, _two_ newcomers – who would like to introduce themselves." The person running the meeting was Steve O'Roarke, a civilian entomologist and the husband of Lt. Siobhan O'Roarke whom I'd initially met on Ligos VIII. He seems like a nice guy, but Deborah Jellico's presence was clearly flustering him. He kept glancing at her as if to make sure she approved of what he was saying.

Deb rose from her chair, right next to mine at the head of the large conference table, and addressed the group. "Good evening, everyone. I'm Deborah Jellico. I know you're all still adjusting to the shift changes and personnel allocations that my husband assigned, and those of you who are in the 'fleet are probably trying to learn his command style, but I promise you, I'm not here to take over your chapter. Every SOAR group is different, and I just wanted to let you know that I'd love to be involved in whatever capacity I can be, without disrupting your rhythm."

Her tone was warm and affable, and she was comfortable in front of this group of about seven strangers the way I was when I was on stage, and I was suddenly glad that we'd chosen to attend a meeting of the SOAR leadership, and not one for the general population.

"I have a confession to make," she added. "I'm always a little nervous on my first visit to one of these meetings, so I brought a friend with me. Some of you likely know her already. Zoe?"

I'd known going into this that hiding in the back and just observing would be unlikely, but I hadn't been entirely prepared to be the focus of everyone's attention. Still, I rose to my feet and tried to follow my friend's example.

"Hi," I said. "I'm Zoe Harris. I'm afraid I'm used to being on stage, so forgive me if I'm not as poised without a script." As I'd hoped, there was polite laughter. "You're probably thinking, 'wow, she looks young,' and you're not wrong; I'm an intern in Protocol at the moment, but I'll be leaving for Earth in a couple of months to start at Yale University."

I paused, which gave Steve the opportunity to ask, "Aren't you also Mrs. Data?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, and forced a soft chuckle instead. "Some people refer to me that way, but Data and I aren't actually married yet." I don't know why I added the last word. Maybe I needed to feel more legitimate. "Anyway, Deborah suggested I should come and see what SOAR does, but I'm afraid I can't commit to anything long-term."

"We're glad you're here," answered a woman who looked like she was a little younger than my mother. "Commander Data said you were really helpful with my boys when my husband and I were on sabbatical two years ago." I must have looked clueless, because she clarified, "I'm Teresa Potts."

Comprehension flooded through me. "Jake and Willie's mother. It's nice to finally meet you. How are the boys?"

Her smile broadened somewhat. "They're well. Jake will be starting high school in the next school year., and Willie will be in sixth grade."

"I'm sorry my friends and I stopped hanging out with them," I said, sincerely. It had been during the aftermath of the boys' adventure on Ogus II that I'd had my first encounter with Lore. "Please tell them I said hi."

"I'll do that," Teresa said.

Steve brought the meeting back to order. "Alright then, Ms. Jellico – "

"Deborah – " Deb corrected. "Or Deb."

"- Deborah, then. And – " he looked at me. "Do you prefer Ms. Harris or Zoe?"

"Zoe, always," I answered."

"Right. Well, welcome Deborah and Zoe. In our last meeting we began discussing a ceremony for our graduating high school students, but I want to wait on that and check in on our current situation. I know my daughter's been having nightmares since seeing Cardassian ships out the window…"

The meeting went on for an hour, as the nine of us discussed the likelihood that we were at war (both Deb and I were able to assure the group that we were not), how to mitigate the civilian crew's fear, and transitional celebrations for the kids moving into the equivalent of middle and high school, as well as the graduation for the high school – my graduation, I realized with a jolt. I'd been out of normal classes for the better part of a year, even if I'd only finally taken the equivalency test a month before. I'd never asked if I'd be allowed to graduate with my classmates, and suddenly, I wasn't sure whether I even wanted to.

Finally, Steve thanked us for coming, and reminded everyone to share key information with the general SOAR groups

"Well," I said to Deborah Jellico as we made our way to the 'lefts. "That was interesting. I only felt like a twelve-year-old for a third of it."

"You were fine, really," she said, her voice full of warmth and encouragement. "And you'll get more comfortable as you continue to attend. You should also go to one of the bigger meetings. Get a feel for them."

"I'll take that under advisement," I agreed.

Data was already home when I arrived in our quarters, but he wasn't alone. Captain Jellico was also there. I hesitated in the doorway, but my boyfriend left his chair and came around his console to greet me with a chaste kiss. "Hello, dearest."

"Hello," I answered, and then turning to our guest, I added, "Good evening, sir. I just left your wife. If you're discussing ship's business, I can disappear." In truth, what I really wanted was dinner – I hadn't eaten before the meeting and had been too self-conscious to help myself to coffee and cookies.

"No need, Zoe," Jellico said, affably enough. "I was just picking Data's brain about the best choice of pilot for tomorrow's mission."

"Mission?"

"We have plans to deliver a little gift to the Cardassian fleet," the captain explained to me. Turning back to my partner, he said, "You're firm in that recommendation, Data?"

"Absolutely, sir. Commander Riker is an exemplary pilot, and, unlike myself, possesses the human intuition necessary for a flight through the nebula."

Jellico nodded. "Very well. Geordi said the same thing, so I'll speak to Will. Thank you, Data. Enjoy some downtime; I'll see you on the bridge at oh-six hundred hours."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Goodnight, Zoe."

"Goodnight, Captain."

Jellico left, and I collapsed into a chair at our dining table. "He's an odd mix of formal and informal, isn't he? First names right and lift, but strict about uniforms and ranks."

"Every commanding officer has his or her own leadership style," Data pointed out. "I believe you are reacting to the casual discussion of a mission – albeit in vague terms – in your presence."

"Well, yes."

"As we discussed on Saturday evening, part of your reaction is because you do not typically ask about ship's business."

"About that…" I began. "Wait, do you mind if I order dinner and eat while we talk? I'm starving."

"If you would care to relocate to the couch, I will bring you a meal."

There were times when eating on the couch was fine – when we were having video night, for example – but conversations were easier at the table. "Tempting, but here's good. I'll take you up on your offer of serving me, though. Teriyaki salmon bento box?"

Data went to the replicator, ordered and retrieved my dinner, and brought it back to the table with a pot of green tea and two cups. Sitting across from me, he asked, "Will you continue with what you were going to say?"

I separated the chopsticks that had come with my bento box and used them to give my cup of miso soup a stir. "I think you know that when my mother first brought me to the _Enterprise_ , I didn't want to be here. And I know that you're among the many who used to comment about my apparent lack of any real understanding of what she did. How I pretended not to care. She didn't even tell me when she was promoted to Lieutenant Commander."

I paused long enough to finish the soup and start on the salmon while my partner confirmed. "I recall all of this. Please go on?"

"What I don't think I've ever told _you,_ is that part of my feigned disinterest was because, to me – to _child_ -me _-_ Starfleet was the thing that kept taking my mother away from me. Pretending not to be interested was a bizarre form of self-defense."

"But you are no longer a child," he pointed out.

"No, I'm not. And I'm no longer here as someone's daughter. I mean, I'm still sort of a student, but we both know that if I wasn't your girlfriend, I wouldn't still be here."

"That is all true, but – "

I cut him off. "Let me finish, please?" He made his 'encouraging' face, and I resumed my explanation. "With you, it's different. I'm not here because someone decided my life for me; I'm here because I chose to be. And understanding what you do, and what's really happening on the ship – that's part of being with you. We've started that already. You've said you'll always tell me what you can, but I still don't ask very often, and the thing is, all the changes that have happened in the past week or so – Captain Jellico being here, you being promoted, me checking out SOAR…" I stopped, having lost the thread of what I wanted to say.

"You have reached the point where you need more information than you typically ask for," he said quietly. "I have been expecting this."

"You _have_?" It was a valid question. Human emotional development wasn't exactly Data's forte.

"Yes, Zoe. As you know, I have also sought advice about our relationship from time to time. When I you explained your discomfort with certain aspects of Starfleet life, I was advised to let you choose the level of involvement you wished to have."

"You said you'd never require me to play more of a role than I want to."

"That is correct."

"You accepted it when I said I needed 'more time in rank.'"

"That is also correct."

"Line officers' partners are typically pretty involved in shipboard life. Until the Jellicos came, you were the only member of the command staff in a long-term relationship."

"We have discussed this, Zoe. I explained that I did not want to push you into anything you were not ready for."

"Yeah, well. I'm eighteen and I'm in a committed relationship with the first officer of the flagship – "

"- _acting_ first officer – "

" – so, I think, maybe some judicious pushing might be in order."

"Only if you are certain."

I finished the last of my salmon and set my chopsticks down. "I'm certain I love you," I told him. "I'm certain I want to support you, personally and in your career. And this isn't about your promotion… I'd talked with Deb before that happened. Anyway, if… if supporting _you_ means _me_ getting more involved - volunteering with SOAR on a limited basis – I mean, I really _can't_ commit to much when I'll be leaving in a few months – and knowing more - a _lot_ more – about what you deal with every day, then… I'm ready now. Or at least, I'm ready to start, if that's okay with you."

"It is more than o – " He stopped himself before completing the word 'okay,' clearly changing tacks "I am glad that you have chosen this path, dearest, but if you had not, I would be no less committed to you, or to us as a couple."

I smiled and reached across the table to insinuate my hand between his, which were steepled, his elbows resting on the table. "I know."

"Then, I believe our next step would be for you to change into lounging attire so that we can relocate to the couch with our tea, and I can explain tomorrow's mission to you."

"The thing with the shuttle and the nebula and Will?"

"Yes."

"Okay."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46389.88**

 **(Friday, 23 May 2369, 07:23 hours, ship's time)**

"Coffee," I demanded. "Need coffee." I made it a plea.

"It is on your nightstand. Zoe, may I remind you again that, while you were invited, you are not required to attend the ceremony? You are still suffering from not sleeping well earlier in the week, and I would rather you rest for the party."

My partner had a point. After dinner on Monday night, he'd given me the salient details of the mission Commander Riker had been picked to undertake: laying mines on the underbelly of every Cardassian ship hiding in a nearby nebula.

While I'd been grateful and relieved that Data would not be on the shuttle, just knowing about something with that much danger had filled my dreams with explosions and other disasters. Fortunately, Will and Geordi – for the engineer had gone with Riker - had been successful.

Tuesday night – early Wednesday morning, really – Data had come home in the wee hours. Captain Picard had returned from the Cardassian outpost, but needed medical attention, he'd informed me. I'd asked him to relay my regards, and he'd agreed. As well, he'd told me, Captain Jellico would retain command until the end of the week.

But that had been two days before, and now

"Coffee first, response later." Data was right, of course. I wasn't crew, so it really wasn't mandatory for me to be present when Captain Jellico officially returned command of the _Enterprise_ to Captain Picard, but I'd set myself on a new path the several days before, and as such, being there mattered to me.

Sitting up in bed, I reached for the mug of steaming coffee, took a sip, and smiled softly. My amazing boyfriend had not only anticipated my need but had gotten the amount of cream exactly right. Not that I expected any less, but still…

"Is it acceptable?" he asked, as he did every time he brought me coffee in bed.

"Well, it's not a cinnamon spice latte from Red Sands, but then again, they don't offer bedside delivery by a dashing Starfleet officer." I made a point of looking him over. "I don't see why you couldn't keep the red uniform."

Data's promotion to full commander was immutable, but his position as second officer would end once Captain Picard was in charge of the _Enterprise_ once more. It wasn't, my partner had explained, a comment on his performance in the role, merely that Will Riker had technically only been suspended, not transferred.

"My official position as head of ship's operations has not changed, Zoe; therefore, it is appropriate for me to resume wearing gold."

"I know, I know," I grumbled. "It's just that you look so handsome in red. It really sets off your eyes."

"I will wear red on our next three date nights, if that will please you."

"Do that," I said, nearly purring. "Though you won't be keeping it on for long."

"I surmised as much." He stopped in front of the full-length mirror attached to the inner bulkhead wall, about to attach his pips to his new (old) uniform.

"Wait!" I set my mug down and got out of bed, crossing the room to insert myself between Data and the mirror.

"Zoe?"

"May I… would you let me pin them on?"

Our eyes met, and something – some unspoken understanding – passed between us. Silently, Data turned his hand, offering his pips to me. One by one, I took the three solid gold circles and affixed them to their proper place on his collar.

"How much time do I have?" I asked.

"Twenty-six minutes, twelve seconds."

"I'll be ready in twenty."

I hadn't attended the ceremony where Captain Jellico took command of the ship I called home, because I'd been on the _Cairo_ having lunch with Admiral Nechayev and the captain's wife. The ceremony reversing that change in command was a quieter one in deference to Captain Picard's time away, and took place on the bridge. Counselor Troi was present, and she caught my eye and flashed a smile as Data and I walked in.

While Data went to take his post at ops, I stood near the doors with Deb, and we exchanged a few quiet pleasantries while we waited. "It's been lovely getting to know you, Zoe," the older woman said. "You will keep in touch?"

"I'd like that," I said. "You've opened my eyes to a while new perspective on Starfleet life. I'm not sure I can express how much it's helped."

"Just make sure you explore all your options," she said. "Speaking of which, Edward asked me to extend an invitation to you and Data to join us for dinner on the _Cairo_ before we leave tomorrow night."

I wasn't sure how that qualified as a 'speaking of which,' but I could tell it wasn't the type of invitation you can refuse. "I'll have to make sure Data isn't on duty, but if he's free we'll be there."

"Twenty-hundred hours."

"I'll comm you in the morning to confirm."

Captain Picard entered the bridge from the ready room then, with Commander Riker at his heels, and Jellico, who had been in the center seat, waiting, rose to greet him. "Captain on the bridge," he said to the entire company. More quietly, he addressed Picard, "Welcome home, Jean-Luc."

The French man seemed a little fragile to me – I was ready to bet we wouldn't be boxing any time soon – but he replied crisply. "Thank you."

"Just the way you left it," Jellico continued, "maybe a little better." Again, he changed his focus: "Computer, transfer all command codes to Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Voice authorization Jellico alpha three one."

\- _Transfer complete._ U.S.S. Enterprise _now under command of Captain Jean-Luc Picard._

I couldn't tell whether or not Captain Picard responded to that by clicking his heels together, but his posture straightened into Attention, and he faced Edward Jellico, eye to eye. "I relieve you sir."

"I stand relieved," the other captain responded. He added a general comment, "It's been an honor serving with you." The only people who truly acknowledged him, though only with nods and looks, were Data and Troi.

Deb invited me to walk out with them, but I heard Captain Picard turn the bridge over to Commander Riker as the doors _wooshed_ closed behind us.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46397.67**

 **(Monday, 26 May 2369, 03:38 hours, ship's time)**

"I think that's the last of it," I said, stuffing one last stack of crumb-and-frosting covered dessert plates into the replicator's recycling slot. "I had no idea thirty people could make this much of a mess."

"I have seen worse," Data admitted. "When I served on the _Trieste_ there was a large party to celebrate the original armistice with the Cardassians. It took three-point-six-five days for the mess hall to be 'back to normal' after that."

"Brings a whole new dimension to the concept of 'mess hall,'" I quipped.

"Indubitably," he responded. "In this case, however, I believe the 'mess' was worth it. Keiko and the Chief understand their importance to their friends here on the _Enterprise_ , and will be carrying our well-wishes with them to Deep Space Nine."

"I'll miss them," I said. "I'll miss the Jellicos as well, though I'm pretty sure I'm in the minority on that. I hope their son like the book I brought him."

"Franklin seemed interested in it when he opened it at dinner," Data assured. "I have observed your interactions with children on several occasions, and you typically relate well to them. I have no doubt your selection of _A Wrinkle in Time_ was acceptable."

"It's really old, but I love the story. I remember Gran giving it to me during a snowstorm one winter when I was at the farm. The power wasn't working correctly, so we built a fire in the wood stove, and brought all the pillows and blankets to the living room, lit every candle we could find, and spent the evening reading bits of our books aloud to each other. It was one of the rare times Mom was home, so I guess it was near my birthday."

"It would seem your family turned an unpleasant circumstance into an enjoyable evening."

"I guess so," I said. "Human memory is weird, Data. On one level, I remember all the coziness of reading by firelight, but at the same time, I remember my parents being really snippy with each other, and Zane and Gran trying to protect me from whatever they were fighting about." I took another look around our rooms, and then went to settle onto the couch. "Your memory doesn't work that way," I stated.

"No," Data confirmed. "It does not. I recall events exactly as they happened, with no variation. However – " He came to join me, bringing to mugs of fragrant mint tea that I hadn't heard him replicate, and handed one to me. "- I also retain the 'flavor' or each moment, what you would consider an emotional component."

"So positive memories 'taste' better?"

"And have more 'depth' of flavor, yes."

"Interesting."

"You are not the only person on the ship who will retain a favorable memory of Captain Jellico and his family," he said, connecting our present conversation to our earlier one. "His challenges to the crew – "

"- the shift changes and performance modifications? - "

Data gave a brief lift of his eyebrows. "Indeed," he said, then continued the thought I'd interrupted, "Those challenges gave me the opportunity to excel, and working with him gave me insight into my own command style."

"Are you going to take his offer?" We'd spent Saturday evening socializing with the Jellicos on the _Cairo_ , getting a tour, and then sharing a meal. Captain Jellico told us that his current executive officer would be starting her maternity leave shortly, and he'd asked Data to consider taking over her position while she was inactive.

"I am uncertain. It would be a valuable experience for me to work with a different crew. Most officers of my rank and tenure seek such opportunities wherever possible."

"But…" I wrapped both of my hands around my mug of tea and waited for his response.

"I am content in my current position here on the _Enterprise._ I do not believe I have exhausted the learning opportunities _here_. As well, the _Cairo_ does not include civilians among her complement. It might not be possible for you to 'come home' during your breaks from school."

"It would be a good career move though, wouldn't it? I mean, it's not usual for the senior officers of a starship to remain fixed forever, is it? What's going on here on the _Enterprise_ with all of you having been together for the better part of a decade is pretty rare, isn't it?"

"That is true."

"I don't want to hold you back," I blurted, causing him to look at me sharply. "If you're truly happy here, Data, then stay, but if the _only_ reason you're hesitating is because of me, that's not fair to you." I meant what I'd said, but in the back of my mind was the other truth: it was going to be hard enough to maintain a relationship once I started college, with the _Enterprise_ to come back to whenever the breaks were long enough.

"This is not a decision we must make tonight," Data said. I could tell he wanted to change the subject, and I chose to let him. "We were speaking of memory," he deftly turned the conversation back to lighter subjects. "I possess an extremely positive memory of an evening roughly one year ago."

I tried to think of what was significant about the date, and couldn't. "Do tell?"

"There was a party that night as well," he explained. "One that you attended, but I did not. While we did have a minor error in communication, the resolution was most satisfactory: you agreed to move in with me."

I stared at him for a long moment, and then I laughed softly. "Wow," I said. "It's been quite a year."

"It has been eventful," he agreed.

I set my mug down and moved to straddle Data's lap, taking his mug and setting it behind me on our coffee table as I did so. "I seem to recall you offering me forever," I said. "I love you, you know."

His answer was completely serious. "I will love you eternally," he promised, and kissed me.

Warmth and laughter and music – the song I'd been singing in the shower days before – welled up inside me, and I couldn't help it. I sang the chorus against his mouth, punctuating it with kisses.

 _"I want to stop and thank you baby  
I just want to stop and thank you baby_

 _How sweet it is to be loved by you  
How sweet it is to be loved by you."_

* * *

 **Notes:** If you watch the two-part episode "Chain of Command" very carefully, three things stand out. One is that Jellico is not brought in as a temporary commander. In-universe, it's expected that he'll be keeping the _Enterprise_. The second is that Data does not just start wearing a red shirt when Riker is relieved of duty; his pips change from those of his canon rank, Lt. Commander, to those of a full commander. In the show, he reverts to his formal rank, but in a real military organization, this would never happen. He'd retain the rank promotion even after reverting to his original position – head of ops. In the CrushVerse, I have corrected this – Data does return to wearing mustard (gold), but he keeps the rank of full commander going forward. And finally, there is only one Stardate given for the entire double episode, which clearly spans several days – if not a couple of weeks. I've expanded the time as far as I felt I could without sending the whole schedule spinning. Dialogue between Picard and Jellico is taken from "Chain of Command, Part II." "How Sweet It Is (to Be Loved by You)" was written by the Motown songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland, and first recorded by Marvin Gaye in 1964.


	11. Commencement

**Commencement**

 **Stardate 46407.28**

 **(Thursday, 29 May 2369, 15:50 hours, ship's time)**

"So that's Deep Space Nine?" Josh's question was largely rhetorical. He, Dana and I were sitting at one of the tables in the window of Ten-Forward, and had been since the ship had docked at the space station. "Didn't know Cardis could create anything that wasn't ugly."

" _Cardassians_ , Josh," I accented the word to make a point, "are people just like everyone else, before they're anything else. Why shouldn't they have architects, artists, and designers who can create beautiful things?"

My question had also been rhetorical, but Josh responded anyway. "Why do you care what I call them? Doesn't make them stop being gray and scaly and evil."

"For the same reason it bothers me when you refer to Betazoids as 'zoids or call people 'vulky' when they're being incredibly analytical and rigid. We live on a starship where we're around people from other worlds and cultures every day. The least we can do is respect their cultures." I sounded prim and annoying, and I knew it.

"Your time working in Protocol is rubbing off on you, Zo'," Dana observed. "Not that I disagree. I'll be honest: I'm scared to death of Cardassians, but calling them stupid names doesn't help anyone."

"Are you really? Afraid of them?"

"I really am," my best girlfriend confirmed. "Aren't you?"

I thought about it for a long moment before I responded. On the one hand, the Cardassians and the Federation had been fighting with each other – mostly over where borders were – since before I was born, and the occasional skirmish still made the news even now, two years after the formal armistice. On the other hand, those wars were largely abstract to me. I'd never been personally affected. I hadn't even been alive until the worst was over. But then there was the more recent, more personal act. I knew – because Data had begun telling me these things – that Captain Picard had been held prisoner by a sadistic Gul who had tried to break him.

Still, I answered honestly. "Not really. I'm afraid of what Lore is plotting. I'm terrified of the Borg. There was this black, furry spider in the shower in my hotel room on Risa that made me scream bloody murder. But on the list of things that terrify me, the Cardassians don't even make the top ten, even after whatever was going on the other week."

"Even knowing they were _torturing_ Captain Picard?" Dana had lowered her voice to a whisper. "Zoe, he was at your birthday party."

But my reaction wasn't that of a friend who had been worried about another… friend. It was, instead, reflective of my time in Protocol, and the recent changes in the dynamic between my partner and myself. "Who told you that?"

"It's… it's all over the ship," Dana answered. "You mean it's true?"

I sighed. "I can't really confirm anything."

"No," she agreed, "I guess you can't. Have you seen him? The captain?"

I shook my head. "It's not like we're lunch-buddies or anything. Whatever he went through, I'm not privy to the details. I just know the entire command staff is… subdued."

Rolling his eyes, Josh rejoined the conversation. "Dude, who cares what the captain and commanders are doing. Are we gonna go explore the space station, or _what_?"

"Can't tonight," I said. "It's Thursday."

"What's so special about Thursday?" Josh asked.

"I could never get the hang of them," I joked, referring to a piece of twentieth-century science fiction I'd read and loved.

"It's date night for Zoe and Data, doofus," Dana said. The longer it had been since the end of their relationship, the more they were settling into a sibling-esque sort of relationship. "Why Thursdays, though?"

"Poker's on Tuesday. Holodeck time is too competitive on Fridays, Saturday afternoon is quartet rehearsal and sometimes we go to Ten-Forward to hear whatever Commander Riker's jazz ensemble is doing. And Sundays… Sundays are for being quiet."

"And church, right? Because you do that stuff?" Josh was being respectful, for him.

"I go when I'm on Centaurus or Earth, sometimes, and on holidays, but no… it's not for church, it's just… Look, even on a 24/7 schedule like we have here, some things still operate on a five-days-on, two-days-off schedule, which means weekends are busy and Mondays are intense, and keeping Sunday kind of quiet, as much – as often - as possible, keeps me sane."

"You're sane?" Josh teased.

"Well… sane-ish?" I countered.

"Close enough," he grinned.

We ordered refills of the coffee drinks we'd all ordered, and a plate of cookies to share, and the conversation shifted.

"Dad said he saw you in a SOAR meeting last night. Are you all Joanie Joiner now?" Dana's tone was full of amusement and her teasing was affectionate.

I forced myself not to wriggle in my chair, or hunch down, even though a part of me wanted to. "Not exactly. A couple of people have suggested I attend, and I went to one of the organizational meetings last weekend. Yesterday was all about planning for graduation."

"Our graduation?" Josh wanted to know.

"Yeah."

"There's like… four of us," he continued. "They're doing a ceremony for four people?"

"Five," Dana corrected before I could answer, "You, me, Ryll, Serena, and Zoe."

"Zoe tested out."

"She can still be part of the ceremony." Dana turned back to me. "You can, can't you? I mean, you testing out was just an admin thing, wasn't it?"

"I honestly don't know if I'm allowed to participate or not," I told my best friend, and then, changing my focus to include my _other_ best friend, I added, "I'm not sure I want to."

"Why not?" Josh was never diplomatic about these things.

I made a sort of shrugging motion. "I guess… I didn't really finish high school; I sort of quit, and… I don't have any parents on board to see me walk."

Dana reminded me, "But, you have Data."

"I _do_ have Data, but, I doubt he cares if I go through the motions of a ceremony or not. And…" I paused. "I think I need to discuss this with him. I've tried so hard to not remind people I'm still a student – these last couple weeks when he was acting first officer put a lot of new kinds of attention on me – on _us_ – and I have to think about his position, not just what I want."

"I keep forgetting that your life is more complicated than it looks," Dana said, rising from her chair. "Come on, Josh, we have finals to study for."

Josh pulled a face. "Yes, mother."

I rolled my eyes at both of them, but we were all smiling, even so.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46409.31**

 **(Friday, 30 May 2369, 09:33 hours, ship's time)**

I'd been at work for only about an hour and a half when Lasso summoned me. "Zo-ee," He always pronounced my name like that, his accent making the exaggerated syllables seem somehow exotic. "I'm going to Ten-Forward for a coffee. Come along."

It wasn't a strange request. I'd been having a morning coffee break with Lasso once or twice a month since I'd started my internship. He liked my reviews to be informal, in a neutral setting. As well, the two of us had been systematically working through every 'designer' coffee drink on Guinan's menu.

I hadn't expected that particular morning to be any different, so I set aside the padd that I'd been using to learn a few Bajoran phrases and learn more about the culture of the planet we were so near, and followed my boss out of the protocol offices.

I knew it wasn't going to be a normal review when he ordered plan black coffee. I ordered plain coffee as well, but with cream. I'd never developed a taste for it straight. "Am I in trouble?" I asked before the protocol officer could say anything.

"You've done nothing wrong Zo-ee, except allow time to pass."

"I don't remember Time Lord being part of my job description."

He laughed. "No, I don't suppose it is. Nevertheless, Zo-ee, time has passed. The semester ends today for your classmates and thus, your internship is over, as well."

I'd forgotten that my job in Protocol was attached to the semester. "So… you're firing me?"

"In a sense. I asked about keeping you until you're ready to leave for Earth, but Commander Data and the captains all agreed you should have the next few months to be young and free while you still can." He hesitated. "I don't know if you'll be coming back to the ship for vacations, but you're always welcome in my domain, Zo-ee."

Of course, Data would have known my internship was ending – I didn't report to him, but Lt. Prerr did - but when we'd had our date the night before – nothing fancy, just dinner and a video – he hadn't said anything. It took me a moment to realize that he _wouldn't_ have said anything. It would have been a breach of protocol. I shook that thought from my head and answered my Rigellian mentor. "Thank you. I've learned a lot from you, Lasso."

"Alright then," he said. "After we finish coffee, you can gather your things and say goodbye to everyone. My review will be glowing, of course." He laughed, and I couldn't help but grin as well. "And Zo-ee, do feel free to visit me before you leave the ship for good."

"I'll do that," I promised. Then I looked down at the coffee I'd barely touched. "Lasso, didn't you say you really wanted to try that toasted coconut mocha?"

"I did," he said. "You, also?"

"Definitely."

We had our plain coffees taken away, to be replaced by the sweeter espresso drinks, and spent another fifteen minutes chatting about the politics of the Cardassian withdrawal from Bajor, and whether I'd refined my college plans.

"Have you got a minute?" I poked my head around the frame of Deanna Troi's open office door. "I know I didn't comm, but…"

The dark-haired woman welcomed me with a smile, and the words, "For you, Zoe, I have several minutes. Is this a social call?"

"Yes and no," I answered. I stepped inside the room and collapsed into one of the chairs. "It's not even fourteen hundred hours and it's been a _day_."

She put away the padd she'd been working on, and came around her desk to sit in another of the chairs. "How so?"

"Well, first I got fired, and then I was summoned to Ms. Phelps' office to talk about my participation in graduation."

"You were fired?" Amusement and alarm battled for supremacy on her face.

"Semester's over, thus concludes my internship. Though Lasso said he'd had a glowing review added to the materials that went to Yale."

"I'm certain he did," Troi said. "Why is graduation hitting you so hard?" Trust her to cut to the chase.

I sat up straighter. "Truth?" I waited for her nod. "I thought… It didn't occur to me that I would be part of it. I mean, I'm _done_ with high school. I've _been_ done with it. My parents won't be there, and Data and I have our own milestones to mark – we just celebrated a year since I moved in with him, officially. I feel like I'm past it. But… at the same time I'm a little…"

"Regretful?" she suggested.

"Wistful," I corrected. "And… I mean, I should _want_ to walk with my friends, shouldn't I?"

"But you don't."

"Not really, no."

"Zoe, you've worked hard _not_ to be seen as a schoolgirl. You spent time as a working actor, you haven't been taking traditional classes all year, you took the equivalency test. It's natural for you to feel as though participating in a graduation ceremony would be going backwards. Especially since I've been involved in the SOAR meetings planning the thing. "

"But…?"

"How do you know there's a 'but'?" Troi was definitely amused.

"There's _always_ a 'but.'"

"So there is," she agreed amiably. "As I said, it's natural to feel that this would be going backward, but before you decide, talk it over with Data, and be sure of what you really want."

"I'm a little worried my friends won't understand if I'm not with them."

"It speaks to your character that their feelings concern you, Zoe, but you shouldn't make a decision based on what everyone else expects."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that," I half-grumbled. "I guess I just needed to hear it from someone outside myself."

"Well, I'm glad I could help." Her smile was warm, and I couldn't help smiling back. "Whatever you choose, Zoe, we all wish you well."

"I know that," I said. "Thanks."

I left her office with a lot less weighing on my mind.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46410.28**

 **(Friday, 30 May 2369, 18:07 hours, ship's time)**

When the comm-signal sounded, I expected it to be Data, telling me he was en route home. With many of the crew taking leave to visit the space station, or even taking shuttles down to Bajor, bridge shifts had been stretched a bit longer than was typical.

Instead, I was informed of an incoming subspace call from my agent back in San Francisco, Bernie Sanders. I heard her distinctive voice even before the aged red-head's image had resolved on my sleep. _"…finished with your internship yet, sweetie? My great-grandchildren have been done with classes for a week, and you have a career to think about, darling."_

"Hi, Bernie. I'm fine. Nice to hear from you, too." I interrupted her non-stop stream of babble. Seriously, the woman made both Data and I seem like amateurs.

 _"Right, right, good to see you. Have you lost weight? Don't they feed you on that space ship?"_

"Starship," I corrected, wondering if my agent had suddenly become an extra grandmother. "And I'm eating just fine."

 _"Hmm. Maybe you're just losing the last of your baby-fat. Listen, I've got a request from the Crystal Theatre on the planet Winter. They're doing_ _ **Hamlet**_ _for their next play, and their artistic director caught you in_ _ **The Tempest**_ _and has decided no one else can touch the part of Ophelia. It's a short run. Ten days of rehearsal, a six-week run, and done. Where are you now, anyway?"_

"We're near Bajor," I said. It wasn't a secret. If it had been, she wouldn't have been able to get through in real time at all. "Near Deep Space Nine."

 _"That's the station we took from the Cardassians? Nasty business that. But wow, you're far out. They'd need you here by… well it's June 8_ _th_ _by my calendar. It's a long trip, I know, but unless you have better plans for the summer, it's worth the money and the exposure."_

"Do I have time to think about it?" I asked. Graduation hadn't been enough pressure, apparently. I had to think about my career as well. "At least to discuss it with – "

 _" – that handsome officer of yours? Yes, yes, think, discuss. Just let me know in twenty-four hours."_

 _Yeah, definitely no pressure_. "I'll do that. Thanks Bernie."

 _"No problem, kiddo. It's only my job."_ She peered at my image on her screen. _"Get some rest, sweetie, you look exhausted. And eat something."_

She cut the connection without bothering to say goodbye.

I waited a few minutes, replicated a mug of mint tea, and then placed a call of my own.

 _"Zoetrope! It's good to see you – even if it is on a screen."_ My father's greeting was as exuberant as ever, made more so by the fact that he was holding my little brother Zeke on his lap. I hadn't seen either of them since the previous December, and six months had made a huge difference. Where I'd seen a baby, there was now a toddler.

"Good to see you too, Dad. And Zeke… _you_ are getting so big!" I changed my inflection slightly when addressing him.

 _"He'll be eighteen months at the end of June,"_ Dad reminded me. He peered into his screen, probably searching my face for the reason I called. _"Is something wrong, kiddo?"_

I smiled, and answered truthfully. "No, Dad. Not wrong. I'm just… I have a dilemma and I need some advice. What do you know about the Crystal Theatre on Winter?"

My father's eyebrows quirked, and he asked me to wait a moment. When I agreed, he left his comm system for a few minutes, returning without the baby. _"Sorry, sweetheart. So… Winter. Well, the planet is exactly how it sounds… blue skies and lots of sun, but cold temperatures a good chunk of the year. The capitol city is beautiful, though. And Winter is the training home for three of the best hockey teams in the Federation."_

"And Crystal Theatre?"

 _"Maggie Jankowski is the artistic director and she's sensational. I orchestrated a production of_ _ **A Winter's Tale**_ _for her when you were six or seven. You probably don't remember."_

"I've _been_ to Winter?"

 _"You have. Why the sudden interest?"_

So, I told my father about the call I'd just received from Bernie, and the offer – "…no audition, Dad, just a straight job offer, but…"

 _"But what, Zoetrope?"_

I was about to ask him about graduation, but I realized I'd already made my decision, and there was only one other person I needed to talk things over with anyway.

"Ophelia… do you think I'm good enough to play her?"

 _"Zoetrope, you're 'good enough' to do whatever you want. Let me know the dates of your performances and we'll try to come."_

"Winter is kind of far from Centaurus."

 _"Yes, but how often does a man see his only daughter play Ophelia?"_

I grinned at my father's image on my screen. "You just want to play in the snow," I accused him, teasing.

 _"That too," he agreed playfully. "But also, I want to see you before you head to Yale. Keep in touch, kiddo. We love you."_

"Love you, too, Dad. Give Zeke a kiss for me. Tell Gia I said hi."

He said that he would, and I shut down the comm.

Remaining at the console, I started researching _Hamlet_ and different interpretations of Ophelia, as well as places to stay on Winter, and the history of the Crystal Theatre. I liked to be as prepared as possible. As I was doing so, I was interrupted by an alert of incoming messages. I flipped to the mail screen, expecting an info-packet from Bernie, which was there, but a moment later another message arrived, this one addressed to both Data and me.

 _You are cordially invited_

 _to the wedding of_

 _Bruce Maddox and Marvin Gratz_

 _Saturday, 30_ _th_ _August, 2369 at 6:00 PM_

 _Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco, Earth_

 _Dinner and Dancing to follow immediately after_

 _*Black tie._

I've never known what my expression was in that moment, but I'm pretty sure my eyebrows twitched, just a little. (If Data had been home, he'd likely have commented on it, or at least observed it.) I didn't know what I thought about Bruce Maddox marrying the shrink from hell – although, now I knew why the voice I'd heard at the cyberneticist's table at The Orb had seemed familiar.

I sent the invitation and the info-pack to my padd and Data's for easier discussion, and then I left the computer. Spot would be asking for her dinner any minute, and her litter box probably needed to be emptied.

I kept Bernie's offer in the front of my mind, mulling it over. It was tempting – _very_ tempting – and even Data would likely agree that it was a better option than lazing about the ship for half the summer. One thing was certain: when he finally got home, we were going to have a _lot_ to talk about.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46412.14**

 **(Saturday, 31 May 2369, 10:21 hours, ship's time)**

"Interesting," Data said, as he read the wedding invitation on his padd. He hadn't come home until long after I'd gone to sleep the previous night, and we'd lingered in bed until ten.

"Seems like a fairly standard wedding invitation to me," I said, joining him on the couch, a mug of coffee in hand.

"In many respects, it is," he agreed. "However, I find it interesting that two such arrogant men would choose to omit their titles."

"I'm still trying to process that Bruce Maddox and Dr. Gratz are a couple… I mean… do you think they bicker about which of them is better in their field?"

If Data recognized my sarcasm, he chose to ignore it, focusing instead on the as-yet-unasked question. "Do you wish to attend?"

"I honestly don't know." I sipped some of my coffee. "Do you?"

"It would be rude not to accept, especially since Commander Maddox and I changed the paradigm of our relationship."

"You mean now that he's treating you like a person, and even a friend, instead of a lab rat."

"I would not have phrased it that way, but, yes."

"I start classes September first, so it's not like we won't be on Earth anyway…" I said, thinking out loud. "We are still planning to spend a few days with Mom and Ed before you leave me in Connecticut, aren't we?"

"We are."

"So, I'll find an amazing dress, and you'll look incredibly sexy in either your dress uniform or a tux, and we'll slay everyone on the dance floor."

"You are certain?"

"I'm not saying I won't have some anxious moments," I said, only partly teasing. "Actually, I'm a bit anxious right now." I set my coffee down, and reached to slip my hand into his. "You know I got fired yesterday."

His expression softened slightly, and his fingers tightened around mine. "And I was not here to provide support. I am sorry, Zoe."

"No, Data, it's fine." I took a deep breath, "If I were truly upset I would have contacted you." The previous few weeks had shown me that the boundaries I'd assumed were rigid were more flexible than I'd realized. I _could_ contact Data on the bridge, if I needed to, and there didn't have to be blood or pain involved. "I spoke to Ms. Phelps and then I popped in on Deanna and we talked for a bit."

"Why did you speak with Ms. Phelps?"

"Apparently she and all my friends are dying to know if I'm participating in graduation."

"Ah."

"Yeah. And the thing is… I've been part of the planning for it with SOAR, but it never occurred to me that I'd be expected to be part of it, so being asked about it kind of threw me for a loop."

"You did not mention it during our date, Thursday night."

"I needed to figure out what I wanted first," I explained. "And something _else_ happened yesterday that kind of changed my priorities."

Data's eyes were wide open; his face had curiosity written all over it. His hands, still curled protectively around mine, were steady, as always. "Please elaborate?"

"Well, first, I don't want to participate in graduation. I may not have taken the equivalency test until April, but I'd closed the door on being a high school student before I ever started the internship with Lasso, so unless you have some burning desire to see me in a cap and gown, I'll go to watch my friends have their milestone."

"And I will attend with you, if that is what you wish, but you said something else happened?"

"Bernie called. The Crystal Theatre on Winter – " I paused to make sure he recognized it as the name of a planet – "is mounting a production of _Hamlet_. They saw video of me in _The Tempest_ and asked if I'd come play Ophelia. I really want to do it, but I'd have to be there a week from Monday, and I'd be gone til almost the end of July."

"It is an excellent opportunity."

"I know, but…" I let my words trail away.

"But, what, Zoe?" Data released one of my hands so that he could lift it and brush some of my hair out of my face.

"It means missing out on eight weeks of time with you. Time, we originally agreed, was important if we're going to sustain our relationship through four years of me being mostly away. Not to mention, it likely _also_ means a month at Terlina isn't going to happen."

"Do you wish to take the 'gig?'"

Data using my slang never failed to make me smile, but I swallowed my grin, and answered honestly. "Ophelia is an iconic role, and as you said, it's an excellent opportunity."

"Zoe…?"

My name was the only admonishment I needed. I was talking around his question rather than just answering it.

"I do. I'm sorry, but I do. And not just because it will look good on a resume. I want to do it because the alternative is rattling around the ship until it's time for our vacation, and feeling useless and redundant, and as much as I love you, that's not an experience I want just yet."

"Yet?" I'd often thought there was faint amusement in my lover's voice when he called me on some of the more extreme statements I'd made, but just then I was certain of it, especially since he'd raised his eyebrows and cocked his head.

I hesitated.

He waited.

I sighed.

He remained silent, though his 'tell me' expression was in full force.

"I know that there will eventually be a time, on summer break or in the future, when I'll be here _just_ as your girlfriend, and when that time comes, I'll figure out how to deal. But right now, I'm eighteen, and I'm not accustomed to being idle. I've never had a completely 'free' summer in my life. I've always had community theatre or an arts camp or… _something_."

Data was quiet for a full minute after I'd finished speaking, but I could almost hear him thinking things through. "May I see the information packet Bernie sent?" I handed over my padd, and he opened the collection of documents.

"If you leave from Deep Space Nine on stardate 46421.46 –

" – June third," I interrupted, converting.

" – yes. You will arrive at Winter on the seventh. I believe I can arrange to join you for your final weekend, and escort you back to the _Enterprise_ , where you will have a few days to pack for Earth and our vacation before we leave. We may not be able to have an entire month on Terlina, Zoe, but I am certain we can have at least a week."

"How certain?"

"Assuming that we are not called away from our current patrol mission, I am eighty-nine point four-six-three percent certain."

"And the extra time apart?"

"Zoe – dearest – we have been cohabitating for one year, six days, and seven hours, and that discounts the fact that we were together nearly every weekend, and most evenings for four months before that."

"You're including the time I was away, though."

"I am. Your time with Idyllwild did not change where your home was, any more than my home changes when I am on an extended away mission. I believe we have created the foundation we need. Do you not?"

I shifted on the couch, pulling my hand from his so that I could cuddle against his side and drape on arm across his middle. His arm wrapped around me, holding me against him. "I worry that my age is a problem for your career, but I won't always be eighteen, and I've learned a lot – and grown a lot – over these last few months. Being apart isn't fun – sometimes it's its own kind of hell - but as much as I missed you last year, I knew that if I really needed you, you'd come."

"That is true," Data said. "It will always be true."

"So, yes, I think we've built what we need," I said, and as the words left my mouth, I realized they were absolutely true. "Our relationship – your presence in my life – it's a solid, reassuring, constant. The Vulcans have that phrase in their bonding ritual, 'parted from me, and never parted.'" I said the words in Vulcan, but I knew that even without the Universal Translator built into his comm-badge, my partner would understand. "I feel like that. We may be apart sometimes, but we'll never be _parted._ "

"Never and always, touching and touched," Data intoned another part of the Vulcan ritual. "I experienced the same sense of recognition when you were away. It began the first time you pressed your hand to the comm-screen."

"When I left, last summer, I was nervous, because even though we'd been together for months, we were still new. Now… I know that our relationship won't end just because we're not sharing a bed for a while. I have your devotion and assurance and… and love… to lean on." After a beat, I added in a wry tone, "Doesn't mean I'm going to like it, though."

Data reached to take hold of some of my hair, twisting it around the fingers of his free hand, and then letting it go. "My Zoe," he said softly, and kissed me.

"I love you, too," I said against his mouth.

We stayed that way, nuzzling and kissing – necking like the teenagers only one of us technically was – for what seemed like forever. When we finally broke apart, it was because my stomach was literally growling.

"I believe we have delayed your breakfast for far too long."

"Worth it, though," I laughed. "Should I replicate something, or are we going to Ten-Forward this morning?"

"If you replicate something to eat, we can spend the next few hours confirming your acceptance of the contract, and securing your travel and hotel accommodations in time to meet Keiko and Miles for dinner on the station."

"Sounds like a plan." I left the couch, replicated a bagel with cream cheese and a cup of fruit, got another cup of coffee, and relocated to the table, where Data joined me, bringing his padd and mine. By the time I was done eating, we'd figured out my itinerary, found an inn within a reasonable distance of the theatre, and arranged for me to have a rental flitter during my stay.

I'd been to starbases and space stations before, but they'd all been much closer to the core worlds of the Federation, and predominantly human. Here on Deep Space Nine, the mix of different races and ethnicities was much more obvious, and I felt a bit like a kid who'd never left her home planet before, goggling and everything I saw.

Bajoran vendors had kiosks next to Andorian traders, and the shops and restaurants that lined the promenade just begged to be explored. Hearing all the different languages was fantastic, and my musician's ear picked out nine – no, ten – different ones, including three distinct dialects of Klingon. (I'd always thought there were only two.)

"Zoe, are you alright?" Keiko O'Brien's voice, a mix of motherly concern and amused affection, jolted me from my reverie.

"Sorry," I said, sheepishly. "You know those old videos where a girl from the back of beyond sees a real city for the first time? I think I'm that girl today."

"You have experienced multiple cultures in a close setting before," Data reminded me gently.

"Besides, you live on a starship," Miles O'Brien pointed out, reminding me of something I'd often reminded others.

"It's not the same, though," Keiko and I said together, and laughed. "Go on," I encouraged the older woman.

"Life on a starship is controlled. Events may be surprising, but there's a system of etiquette in place that regulates behavior. DS9 isn't like that."

"Also, everything on the _Enterprise_ feels sort of… antiseptic," I added. "And the starbases closer to Earth do, too. Here everything is sort of…"

"Seedy?" Miles suggested, an amused smirk on his face.

" _Earthy_ ," I corrected.

"An interesting choice of descriptor, considering that DS9 – " Data, I noticed, had picked up on Keiko's abbreviation. " – exists as its own point in space, as well as having a population where Terran humanoids are in the minority."

"Have you got a better word?" I challenged my partner.

"I…" Data spent time searching his inner thesaurus. "… do not," he stated, seeming somewhat bewildered.

"Hah!" I was smug, but I was also teasing him.

"Are you two sure you're not married?" the former transporter chief asked, the mischievous glint back in his eye.

"We are not," Data answered, but he said it in such a way that I reached out to cover his hand with mine.

Our gazes met, and held, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. Sometimes just a look from him was so powerful… But it was over in a second, and the conversation resumed, with Data asking Miles about his new job, and Keiko asking me about my internship.

"Actually, it's over," I told her, explaining that the semester had ended. "I've been working with SOAR," I told her. "Which has been interesting. I feel like they expect me to step into some kind of leadership role because of my relationship with Data, but the reality is that I don't have the necessary experience – in work or in life – and anyway, I'm due on Winter in about a week."

"Winter?" My friend's husband broke off his conversation with my partner to address me. "Dismal place. Gray, cold, dreary, all the time. It's like that old book about the kids who get lost in a coat closet… 'always Winter, never Christmas.' Why would you want to go there?"

"I'm desperate for a proper snowball fight and lessons in curling," I deadpanned.

Data amended my reply for me. "Zoe has been asked to play the role of Ophelia in the Crystal Theatre's production of _Hamlet_."

"Really?" Keiko was literally beaming at me; her smile was so big. "Zoe, that's amazing. You'll be fantastic, I know it."

"Thank you," I said. "I hope you're right. Now," I shifted the focus of our conversation away from me. "We've heard how Miles is settling in… how are _you_ doing? How's Molly?"

Dinner went on for a while, though I caught myself gazing across the promenade at a clothing shop with several formal dresses on display. I doubted it would still be open at the end of our meal, but maybe I'd have time to check it out before we left.

Knowingly, Keiko followed my gaze. "You're looking at Garak's?" she confirmed. After I nodded, she continued. "The owner's a Cardassian. There's a rumor he used to be some kind of spy, but he's never been anything but gracious."

"How are his prices?"

"High. But his taste is impeccable and his craftmanship is even better. So, it's money well spent. Do you need a dress for your graduation?"

"Zoe has chosen to forego the commencement ceremony on the ship," Data answered before I could.

"Because you're going to Winter?" Miles asked.

"No," I said. "I put high school behind me a while ago. I don't need a ceremony to prove it. I need a dress for a wedding Data and I will be attending right before I start classes this fall. I need a dress for the closing night gala on Winter, as well, but I have no idea what's in fashion there, or appropriate for the weather, so I'll have to squeeze in some shopping." I made my voice sound long-suffering as I said the last few words. Data smiled faintly – his social smile, not his real one – and Miles and Keiko laughed, though the former's laughter came out more as a throaty chuckle, while the latter's was a musical trill.

Dessert was a chocolate fondue, and our evening ended shortly afterward, with Keiko taking me aside for a moment. "You said you're catching a transport to Winter from here… you know you're welcome to stay with us if you want."

Impulsively, I embraced the older woman. "That's very sweet, but I think I'm going to stay in the transient hotel, and start learning my lines. Maybe we could do some shopping and have lunch before I leave?"

"I'd love that," my friend replied. "But you _will_ contact us if anything happens." It wasn't a question, and it was easier to agree.

"Of course," I said.

She and Miles headed toward their quarters, then, and I slipped my hand into Data's as we meandered back to the airlock in the docking ring that would take us home.

"You seemed subdued this evening," he observed as we passed the clothing store I'd been looking at. It _was_ closed, but the hours were posted on a display, and the clothing on display was exquisite. Men's and women's pieces, suitable for humanoids, as well as some items that were androgynous. I couldn't say why, but I liked the feel of the place.

"Counting minutes in the back of my head," I explained. "Not enough of them left. I have to pack for Winter, and I want to say goodbye to my friends – by the time I get back home, they'll be gone – and I want every single remaining minute to be spent with you, but I know that's not really possible. Was taking the gig a mistake?"

Data paused mid-stride, then adjusted his stance so he was facing me. "While I do not enjoy the times that we are separated, Zoe, I do not believe your decision to accept this 'gig' was in error. As you said, you dislike being idle, and as Bernie herself reminded you, mine is not the only career we must consider."

My partner was off-duty, and in civilian clothes, so after just staring at him for a long moment, I closed the distance between us, and stretched up to kiss him – easier since I was wearing shoes with high heels. "Thank you," I told him.

"You are welcome," he answered, then tacked on, in a tone tinged with confusion, "Why did you think me?"

"For grounding me – balancing me – and always helping me find my way back to center. Sometimes you do it with words and sometimes it's a look or a touch or…." I trailed off, a sudden thought derailing what I'd meant to say. Then I started laughing.

"Zoe? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I said. "I'm really fine, it's just that… when my mother realized we were – our relationship, I mean – getting serious, she cautioned me that being with you would mean never being 'normal.' But she was wrong."

We'd started walking again, our arms around each other, rather than simply holding hands. "How so?" Data asked.

"I'm eighteen years old. I've already spent half a year with a touring theater company. I've spent a semester interning in the protocol office of Starfleet's flagship. I'm about to leave to play an iconic role in a famous play on a planet that turns the concept of 'winter wonderland' into a mission statement, and then I'm starting classes at one of the most revered educational institutions in the Federation… and you and me – our relationship? – that's the most normal part of my life."

His smile, caught out of the corner of my eye, was real that time. "Thank you, Zoe," he said softly.

We returned to the ship, and our quarters, in comfortable silence.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46417.66**

 **(Monday, 2 June 2369, 10:45 hours local time)**

 **Deep Space Nine**

Less than twenty-four hours after the _Enterprise_ had departed Deep Space Nine, I was looking at one of the garments that I'd seen through the window during dinner the night before. I'd spent Sunday packing, saying goodbye to my friends, presenting them all with small graduation gifts, and ended the day with Data, who'd created a quiet dinner at home before escorting me to my temporary quarters on the space station.

I had watched the starship clear the docking ring from my room.

Keiko was with me in the shop, of course – no woman should ever go shopping alone, if she can help it – but her taste tended to be much more conservative than mine, and she was several meters away from me looking at something beige.

"Is there something I can help you find, my dear?"

I turned away from the display dress, and found myself staring into the penetrating blue eyes of a Cardassian man who was probably a bit taller than Geordi, but not quite as tall as Data.

"Are you Mr. Garak?" I asked.

"It's _just_ Garak," he answered, his tone warm but with a hint of something else underneath it. Or maybe I was just projecting. I'd never actually spoken to a Cardassian before. Still, even if the dress I'd been looking at was wrong, his merchandise was exquisite – rich fabrics, vivid colors, finely made.

"I'm Zoe," I responded. "And your store is lovely." I saw Keiko turn toward me and make a slight gesture, in case I needed support, but I gave her a slight shake of my head and turned back to the proprietor. "I need a dress."

He didn't thank me for the compliment, but the ridges above his eyes lifted slightly, and those blue eyes widened just a fraction. "May I ask what the occasion is?"

"A wedding. On Earth. Are you familiar with the term 'black tie?"

"Then, my dear Zoe, this dress is not what you want?"

I'd already determined that, but I was impressed by the implication that he'd rather lose a sale than send a customer away with something that wasn't right. "No," I agreed. "It's pretty. If I were looking for a graduation dress it'd be perfect, but…"

"But for a formal wedding you require something a bit more elegant… more sophisticated."

"Exactly."

"Do you have a color in mind?"

"Black is an obvious choice, but _everyone_ defaults to black. I need something that will go with Starfleet gold, in case my partner decides on his dress uniform and not a tuxedo."

"Mmm." Garak is staring at me, apparently appraising me, and I stand a bit straighter in response. "Black _is_ the obvious choice, you're right, my dear, but with your coloring and that hair – you aren't changing your hair, I hope?" I shake my head, and he continues, "Good. Maroon, I think. It will look good if your… partner… wears black but it will also compliment that odious mustard color."

I reach up to touch my hair, then drop my hand. "It is an awful color, isn't it?" But my question is rhetorical. I wore a maroon dress the night on Hamal IV when Data experienced desire. "I like maroon," I said.

"Good." Garak gave me another close examination. "A simple silhouette, I think," he said. "A sheath of Koribdian silk, with some decoration at the neckline… I have just the thing, if you'll come this way…" and he guided me toward one of the changing rooms.

Keiko was waiting when I stepped back through the curtain. I could tell from her body language – she was standing so stiffly - that she didn't trust Garak, but I knew her husband had fought in the Cardassian war and was still prejudiced against them. Even so, the expression on her face told me that _this_ Cardassian had found me the perfect dress. It hugged my figure exactly where it should, and the vertical braiding across the deep V-neck added a hint of modesty and eliminated the need for a necklace.

"Zoe, that's gorgeous. Data will love it."

I laughed. "Not likely, but he'll 'appreciate how aesthetically appealing' I am in it." I glanced down at my feet. "It's a little long though."

"Basic alterations are part of the price," Garak put in. "How soon is this wedding?"

"It's not for almost three months," I said. But my face fell as I realized, "but I'm leaving for Winter on a transport at eighteen-hundred hours tomorrow."

"Winter?" The shop-owner's curiosity seemed sincere.

"I'm playing Ophelia in the Crystal Theatre's production of _Hamlet_ ," I explained.

" _Hamlet_ … that's the one with the dead king, the spoiled prince and the insane princess, isn't it?"

"That's one way of looking at it," Keiko murmured.

I flashed my friend a pointed look, and asked Garak, "You know Shakespeare?"

"I'm familiar with the works of many Terran playwrights. Cardassian plays tend toward the didactic. Epic stories told in non-canonical scenes. Have you ever experienced our theatre?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Mmm. Pity that. You should look up the works of Shoggoth. He's best known for his enigma tales, of course, but he turned to playwrighting later. He favored the didactic style."

"Didactic…?"

"Tales of duty and morality with frequent pauses to engage the audience in debate. They're quite provocative."

"I'll look them up," I promised, intrigued.

"I'm sure you'll find them educational. Now, my dear, stop by here at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow, and I'll have your dress ready."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm just going to go change to my regular clothes." I slipped back into the dressing room and changed into the outfit I'd been wearing before, then returned and offered the dress back to Garak, who took it in exchange for a padd, so I could scan my credit chit and pay him. Keiko had been right – his prices were on the high end, justifiably so. "Are you sure you have enough time, though?"

He responded by taking out a digital scanner and measuring my height and inseam. "Oh, my dear, I never promise what I can't deliver."

I wasn't sure if he meant to sound sinister or not, but Keiko had already left the store, and was waiting a bit further down the promenade, so I thanked him for his time, and took my leave.

"You and Garak seemed to hit it off," Keiko said when I caught up with her a minute or two later. "Did he recommend the enigma tales?"

"Actually, no," I told her. "He mentioned them, but suggested I check out some of the author's plays, instead. Why?"

"Miles says he tries to get _everyone_ to read the enigma tales."

We both laughed at that, and then we went back to her quarters to hang out and spend time with Molly. I had dinner with the O'Briens, and then excused myself to pack and get some sleep.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46427.18**

 **(Thursday, 5 June 2369, 22:07 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Cairo**_

Two days into my journey from DS9 to Winter, I had transferred from a runabout to a civilian ship, to the _Cairo,_ where I'd be for the remainder of the trip. I was accustomed to traveling via commercial means, but there was something comforting about being among friends.

My first night aboard, Deb Jellico had insisted I join her family for dinner, and Captain Jellico turned out to be a delightful conversationalist in private, and out of crisis mode. Their son, Franklin, had loved the book, and nearly talked my ear off quoting sections of it.

Still, the time I was most looking forward to, was after dinner, back in the guest quarters they'd assigned to me. The _Cairo_ was an Excelsior-class ship, an older and smaller design than the _Enterprise_ , but the room was nice enough, and it had a comm-system I'd been invited to use.

I washed off my makeup and changed for bed before I placed my call, and when the communication officer at home had transferred my call to quarters, my smile was relaxed and real. "Hello, Data…"

My partner's expression was much less revealing than mine, but I knew he was glad to hear from me in real time. _"Zoe, I have appreciated your brief updates each time to you changed transports, but being able to converse with you is much preferred. I… miss you."_

"I miss you, too," I said. "But I'm fine. I went shopping at Garak's on Deep Space Nine, and found a _killer_ dress for Maddox's wedding. Garak gave me a vid of a Cardassian play as well. I haven't watched it yet, though. Keiko says he's some kind of unofficial ambassador for Cardassian culture." I paused. "What's been going on at home?"

 _"I have spent a significant part of the last thirty-six hours on the holodeck."_

"On the holodeck? You didn't run the Irene Adler scenario without me?"

 _"I did not. However, we did have a… visit… from another character from the Holmes stories. Do you recall that Geordi and I once caused Professor Moriarty to manifest as an apparently sentient being?"_

"You said that's why some of the Holmes stories were locked out." I hadn't been aboard when my partner and his best friend had accidentally created their off-script Moriarty, but Data had told me the story one night, before we'd started dating, when he was watching over me because I had the flu.

 _"That is correct. However, it would seem that even though his program was discontinued, Moriarty continued to exist in active memory. When he appeared, he told us that he had even been aware of the passage of time."_

I shivered at the thought. "Alone in nothingness, but aware of every second? I can't imagine what that must have been like."

 _"I do not think it was pleasant for him, and I have no wish to experience the same conditions,"_ Data agreed. _"In any case, he managed to convince the captain, Lt. Barclay, and me that we had left the holodeck when, in fact, we were in an elaborate simulation of the Enterprise herself."_

"You didn't have to kill him, did you?"

 _"No, Zoe. We created a virtual scenario in an independent, portable memory module, that should keep him occupied for many years to come."_

"I'm glad I wasn't there," I said. "I probably would have gone half-crazy worrying about you. Could have been worse, though… you could have been mauled by one of Reg's velociraptors."

Data's face showed his displeasure at that idea. _"I had not considered that."_ He brightened though, and suggested, _"Perhaps you would be interested in the other phenomenon we witnessed today. We arrived in the Detrian system yesterday, in order to record a rare event: two planets collided with each other."_

"Collided? They weren't… they weren't inhabited, were they?" I wasn't sure I wanted to know if they were.

 _"They were gas giants. They did not even possess solidity. However, their collision caused a fusion reaction which resulted in the birth of a new star."_

I smiled at that, and when I spoke, my voice held the note of reverence Data's could not. "You watched a star being born? How cool! Does it have a name?"

 _"Yes,"_ Data said, _"it does. As I was in command of the bridge at the moment of the initial explosion, I was given the privilege of naming it."_

"If you named it after your cat…"

 _"Spot is_ _ **our**_ _cat, Zoe. But the planet will be named after a pirate queen whose adventures I have been following."_

"A pirate queen? You didn't read ahead in the _Master and Commander_ series?"

 _"No, Zoe."_

"Who then? Anne Bonny? Sayyida al Hurra?"

 _"No, Zoe."_ When he repeated the answer, I knew he was teasing me.

"Alright then, who?"

 _"Zoificus."_

I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I blinked a couple of times, feeling my eyes get a little wet. "You're kidding."

 _"No, dearest, I am not."_ He'd changed his inflection, making it more tender.

"You named a star after me," I said, feeling wonder and awe and love, and wishing I was there to thank him properly. As I wasn't, I simply repeated, "You named a _star_ after me."

 _"It seemed appropriate, Zoe. After all, your job on Winter is not just another summer project, it is the commencement of the next chapter of your life – "_

" – of our lives – "

 _"Yes. Unlike me, you will not be mapping stars and studying nebula, however. Rather, you will be charting the many possibilities of your existence."_

His words hit me harder than I think he meant them to. "Oh, Data…" But I didn't want to end the night on a note that was anything but light. "I'm away from home for two days, and suddenly you're a philosopher," I teased gently. I wanted to say more but a yawn came out instead. "I'm sorry, love. It's been a tiring few days, and I should rest. Comm tomorrow if you can?"

 _"I will try,"_ Data replied. _"Sleep well, Zoe. I am… " but he trailed off, and a faint smile curved his lips, as he amended, "I love you."_

As had become our habit, we lifted our hands to 'touch' each other's image on the screen. "I love you, too," I said. "Zoe out."

The bed I crawled into was too big without my boyfriend to share it with, but even though we were sectors apart, I felt like Data had wrapped me in his arms, anyway. I slept through the night, dreaming happy dreams.

* * *

 **Notes:** This episode spans the _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine_ pilot episode, "The Emissary," and the _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ episodes "Ship in a Bottle" and Zoe's line about Thursdays is a reference to _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy._ Data initially had the realization of the Vulcan bonding ritual in _Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress and Android_. Shoggoth's enigma tales are referenced in a season three episode of _Star Trek: Deep Space Nine,_ "Distant Voices." Sayyida al Hurra and Anne Bonny were real female pirates, during the 16th and 18th centuries, respectively. Data's line to Zoe about commencement and exploration is a paraphrase of a quote from Leonard Nimoy.


	12. The Stormy Present

**The Stormy Present**

 **Stardate 46445.19**

 **(Thursday, 12 June 2369, 11:53 AM local time)**

 **Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter**

 _"'He took me by the wrist and held me hard;_

 _Then goes he to the length of all his arm;_

 _And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,_

 _He falls to such perusal of my face_

 _As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;_

 _At last, a little_ –' Line!" It was the fourth time I'd stumbled on the speech that morning, and I was frustrated because I _knew_ the lines – I'd spent hours at home, on DS9, and on the various transports I'd taken to get to the _Cairo_ memorizing them, and then spent a lovely evening running them with Captain Jellico and his wife – my friend – Deborah. And yet, once I'd stood on the stage, facing the actor who was playing Polonius, something about this scene, this speech, had me jumpy in the wrong way, and disconnected from the torn madness in the character.

"At last, a little shaking of mine arm…" Our director, Wrenn Hagen provided the line for me.

I continued the speech:

" _At last, a little shaking of mine arm_

 _And thrice his head thus waving up and down,_

 _He raised a sigh so piteous and profound_

 _As it did seem to shatter all his bulk_

 _And end his being: that done, he lets me go:_

 _And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,_

 _He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;_

 _For out o' doors he went without their helps,_

 _And, to the last, bended their light on me."_

Polonius was about to respond to me, but Wrenn called a halt. "Let's stop for now. I'm hungry; I'm sure you're all hungry, too. Chaz," he addressed the actor playing Polonius, "good work today. Zoe, you like udon noodles?"

"Yes?" I wasn't sure why she was asking.

"Come to lunch with me." Shemade it an order, rather than an invitation, but she paused, and added in a warmer tone. "Don't forget your coat. We're walking." She ran her fingers through her close-cropped white hair. "Might want warmer footwear, also."

I'd been on Winter for less than a week and I'd already learned how brutally cold it could be when you weren't in the sun. I grabbed my coat and changed to the warm fur-lined boots I'd bought a couple of days before.

Twenty brisk minutes later I was sitting across from Wrenn in a cozy Japanese restaurant. Typically, I would have chosen a sushi or sashimi bento box, but my companion had mentioned udon, specifically, and honestly, with the cold weather hot broth and noodles seemed like a wise choice.

"So," she asked after we'd put in our orders and been served cups of jasmine tea, "I have to be honest, Zoe. Your rehearsals have been a little rocky."

I wanted to avert my eyes, but I forced myself to meet her gaze. "I know," I said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I _know_ the lines, I spent a lot of my travel time reading about the play, and working out my own interpretation, and then I got here, and…"

"Things fell apart?" Her tone wasn't unkind.

"Yeah. And it's weird. I spent six months with Idyllwild last year and I was fine. Nervous before performances, but anticipatory nervousness, you know?"

"Most actors get that way." Our food was delivered, and I took the opportunity to fiddle with my spoon. Wrenn continued. "Zoe, I've seen you perform Miranda – it's why I wanted you for Ophelia. I _still_ want you for Ophelia, but we have a very short rehearsal period and I need to have you at a hundred percent."

"I know," I said. "I don't know why I'm fumbling, Wrenn. I really don't." I hesitated, using the time to eat some of my noodles. Finally, I asked, "Are you going to replace me with Dafna?"

"I don't want to," the older woman answered. "She knows the lines, but she doesn't have the presence I've seen from you. Do me a favor?"

"A favor?"

"Yes. The speech you were fumbling in rehearsal this morning… can you do it for me right now?"

"What, _here?"_

"Here," she said, her eyes sparkling with challenge, "and now."

I set down my spoon and took a minute or so to center myself. Ophelia, in the scene I'd been having trouble with, is telling Polonius that her cousin Hamlet seemed to be about to declare himself to her, but instead just stared at her for a long time, and then left. Her whole arc is an I want him/I can't have him battle with her own subconscious until she finally snaps. People know the 'mad' scene – the 'rosemary for remembrance' speech – but it's the earlier interactions that pay off in that speech.

"Don't act it," Wrenn added before I began to speak. "Just tell it."

Her words echoed something Lachlan Meade had told me more than once when I'd been doing Miranda in _The Tempest_ the previous summer. _People always think Shakespeare is fussy because of the language. 'Tisn't true. If anythin' he was_ _ **aerthy**_ , he'd said, his brogue making the last word have more weight than even his emphasis had given it. _Find the rhythm o'the words, lassling, and let them sing… the character will be there if you just listen to the words._

Ophelia, is, at this point, confiding in her father. Sure, he's an aging blowhard, and his advice is all in dated aphorisms, but he means well. I thought about my own father, who had always been more of a playboy than a blowhard, but who _also_ gave well-meaning advice.

With those things in mind, and cognizant that Wrenn was waiting for me, _and_ that my job was on the line, I began to speak the words I'd kept messing up in rehearsal, relaying them to her as if I was telling my grandmother.

 _"He took me by the wrist and held me hard;_

 _Then goes he to the length of all his arm;_

 _And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow,_

 _He falls to such perusal of my face_

 _As he would draw it. Long stay'd he so;_

 _At last, a little shaking of mine arm_

 _And thrice his head thus waving up and down,_

 _He raised a sigh so piteous and profound_

 _As it did seem to shatter all his bulk_

 _And end his being: that done, he lets me go:_

 _And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd,_

 _He seem'd to find his way without his eyes;_

 _For out o' doors he went without their helps,_

 _And, to the last, bended their light on me."_

A slow smile spread across the director's weathered skin, and her ice blue eyes crinkled as the expression broadened. "Well, Miss Ophelia, I see you've finally shown up for work."

I gave her a sheepish grin. "I didn't mean to be late," I said.

"It happens," Wrenn assured me. "It happens _once,"_ she clarified, her tone taking on a stern note. "Now, I'm going back to rehearsal, but I want you to take the afternoon off. Go for a walk along the waterfront or go back to your inn and curl up by the fire – or maybe one, and then the other – if you go back today, you'll be self-conscious, and I don't want that."

I didn't bother to argue that I'd likely be fine, because I wasn't sure I would be. Instead, I accepted her instruction, but confirmed, "If you're sure…?"

"I want you fresh and eager in the morning, Zoe. Go. Relax. And whatever you do…" I was already standing and putting my coat back on.

"Yes?"

" _Don't rehearse."_

I laughed at that. "I promise," I said. "Thank you." I think she knew I meant for the second chance as well as for lunch. Feeling slightly less rocky, I left the warmth of the restaurant to face the brisk cold outside.

 **(=A=)**

There's an old saying: when the going gets tough, the tough get going. There's a slightly updated version that amends that to the tough go _shopping_ , which is what I did after I left the noodle house, with Wrenn's order not to rehearse still ringing in my brain.

Wrenn and I may have walked the block or so from the rehearsal studio to lunch, but I had a rental flitter for a reason. I collected my belongings and did what everyone my age does when given free time.

I hit the shopping district.

I had a pretty good time, too. I found a black knit dress with a cowl neck that would be perfect (and warm) for the opening night gala for _Hamlet_ , and a second dress in deep teal for the closing night party, as well as a few sweaters and some pants that were warmer than what I'd brought. I knew Connecticut, on Earth, would have cold weather, so it wasn't as though I was wasting credits.

Late in the afternoon, I bought a coffee from a kiosk on the waterfront and found a bench to sit on. The ocean was painted in grays and blues, cold, deep colors, but almost as smooth as ice. The hot coffee and the chill air combined to refresh my mood, but a pang of homesickness ran through me. The thought that I wanted Data to share this moment with me, followed on its heels.

I saw a plume of water from the ocean, the spout of one of this planet's oceanic mammals. They weren't quite whales, but they were similar. I wondered if Winter had something analogous to mermaids.

The afternoon light thinned into early evening, and, my coffee long since gone, I headed back to the inn.

 **(=A=)**

"Miss Harris, hello. Susannah was just asking for a head count for dinner. Are you joining us?" Doug Williams was the innkeeper at the Goose & Turrets in Foggville, a coastal village just outside the Fogg City limits. He was about fifty-five years old, with strawberry hair that was starting to turn gray, and an Irish lilt reminded me of Miles O'Brien. That alone made me feel at home, but Doug and his wife were also two of the kindest people I've ever met and staying at their place was more like visiting long-lost family than staying in a hotel.

"It's just Zoe," I corrected for at least the seventeenth time since my arrival. "And I don't want to put you out." Dinner wasn't technically included in the room rate, but Susannah enjoyed cooking, and, as far as I could tell, happily served whomever was about, as long as they helped with setting the table and clearing up after. Most nights since my stay, I'd had dinner with one or more of my cast-mates, but that night, a meal that _didn't_ involve theatre people seemed just the thing.

"I'd love to," I said. "Let me just drop my bags in my room, and I'll be back."

"Feel free to change to lounge-wear," Doug encouraged. "We're informal here, in the evenings."

I grinned. "Don't tempt me," I called as I headed toward the lift that would take me to my room at the top of inn. "I'll be back in a bit."

My room had been refreshed while I was at rehearsal: the bed had been made and the curtains opened. They'd even re-stocked the tea I'd been drinking since my arrival, an orange spice blend that was both soothing and warming. Outside, beyond my window, the sun was setting over an ocean that was still placid, and the air was cooling rapidly. I took a moment to enjoy the view, then splashed my face with water, changed into a pair of leggings and a baggy sweater, and went back down to the common area of the inn.

This time it was Susannah who ran into me – literally. As I exited the lift, she came around the corner from the kitchen, and we crashed into each other.

"Oh… Zoe… I'm so sorry," the older woman apologized. "I'm so used to coming around that corner at speed, I forgot to look and see who was there. Are you alright?"

I was only a bit surprised, and I said so, adding, "Doug invited me to join everyone for dinner; I hope that's okay?"

Susannah pushed her ash blonde and gray braid over her shoulder. "Okay? I'd say it's about time you joined us for a meal, missy." She paused then, and a worried look crossed her face. "Only, I've heard you starship types don't eat meat, and I'd planned a roast for tonight. There's a local ovine - they're not quite sheep, but they're very similar – and it's going to storm tonight, so I thought…."

I put a gentle hand out to touch her arm. "I may live on a starship, but I'm not a 'starship type,' and I promise, I eat meat. In fact, I've been known to commit social atrocities just for bacon." A memory flashed through me, of waiting to be out of Data's sight before running after Charlie Simmons on Melona… before…. So many of my memories from that trip were dark ones; there was something refreshing in a relatively happy memory for a change. I'd have to find Charlie a souvenir of Winter and send it to him.

Susannah laughed softly. "I'll have to make sure we have bacon for breakfast, then. Go join the others by the fire. Doug mulled some wine, and there's a tray of nibbles."

"I was going to offer to help with dinner," I countered. "I used to spend a lot of time at my grandmother's farm, and I'm no stranger to chopping vegetables. Actually, I find it sort of… cathartic."

The older woman gave me an appraising look. "Perhaps it's just what you need, after all. Come this way."

I followed her down the back hallway into a cozy kitchen that made me feel like I was back on my grandmother's farm. There was even a red enamel tea-kettle on the back burner of the stove. "You said you were doing a roast?"

"It's already in the oven, but we need to do the vegetables to go with it. Mind chopping onions and carrots?"

I shook my head. "Just tell me where to stand."

The carrots she gave me were purple rather than the orange I was accustomed to, but when I tasted one, the flavor was the familiar sweet crunch I'd known my entire life. I scrubbed them and diced them as Susannah had directed, and then went to work on the onions.

"You really have spent time in a kitchen," she observed. Casually, she added, "Wrenn and I grew up together. She contacted me earlier today, warned me you'd had a challenging time of it. Need an ear?"

I hesitated. My issues in rehearsal were something I'd normally wait and talk to Data about, but he was half a quadrant away, and this woman was in the same room.

"I – "

"One moment." She set the carrots and onions I'd chopped into a sauté pan and set them aside, then pulled two small green glasses out of a cupboard. "Come, sit," she invited, gesturing to the small table tucked in the corner. She picked up a bottle of wine and brought it with her. "You don't have a problem with alcohol, do you?"

"No."

"Good. This is a local winery. If you have time, you should visit their shop while you're here." She poured a healthy amount of the red liquid into each glass. "You're probably used to stemware, but these have been in my family for centuries, and we've always used them for table wine. It'll warm you, but it'll relax you a bit also. Now… tell me, Miss Ophelia… what's wrong."

I smiled at her use of my character's name but obeyed her first instruction – to taste the wine – before I answered. It was smoky with a hint of sweetness, and I reached for the bottle to read the label, stalling for time while I gathered my thoughts. "I know the lines," I said softly. "I knew them cold before I arrived here. But in the rehearsal studio, I keep stumbling. It's like, I can't connect to the character I'm supposed to be playing."

"Hmm." Susannah took a thoughtful sip from her own glass. "How did you get the part?"

I echoed my partner's usual statement, though I used the contraction he never did. "I don't understand."

"You live on a starship. You're – what? - twenty?"

"Eighteen," I corrected.

"Eighteen. I knew you were young…"

"I'm legal," I reminded her.

"Of course, you are. Still young to be so far from home, though."

"I spent half of last year working with the Idyllwild Troupe," I said. "Mostly on tour. That's how I got the part. Wrenn saw video of me playing Miranda in _The Tempest_ and contacted my agent."

Susannah's expression turned into something I interpreted as a mix of amusement and being impressed. "Your agent, hmm? So, you didn't audition?"

I lowered my eyes. "No."

"Maybe you feel like you didn't really earn it."

I kept my attention on the tabletop, which had been painted a cheery cherry red, in contrast with the white legs. I was silent for what seemed like five minutes but was probably only one, and then I raised my head to meet my host's eyes once more. "How did you know?"

Her smile was gentle. "Because I have a daughter your age. Because I was your age once. Because it's human nature to want to deserve the things we get."

"Okay, that's fair." I chuckled softly. "So, what do I do about it?"

Susannah grinned. "You drink more wine. You have a lovely dinner with new friends. And tomorrow, when you go in, you remember that you don't need to keep auditioning. You're not here on trial. You have the job. Now you just have to do it."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," I observed.

The older woman smiled. "Maybe a little." She paused long enough to drain her wine glass, which she set down, empty, with a heavy _thunk_. "Drink up. Then if you're still willing to chop things, you can make a salad."

I didn't drain my glass quite as quickly, but within a few minutes I was back at the counter, shredding greens and mixing in a variety of Terran and local vegetables.

 **(=A=)**

Dinner was a warm and pleasant affair. Doug and Susannah didn't pick and choose their guests, but they might as well have, as our group included a pair of businessmen who were friendly rivals, a couple who had met while visiting the inn separately ten years before and were on a pre-baby vacation (the wife was _very_ pregnant), a sculptor from Nueva Espanola who usually worked with glass but was on Winter to experiment with ice, and a science teacher who was giving herself a couple of days of relative luxury before boarding a sailboat for a five day yacht race.

The conversation was as diverse as the company. We discussed each of our careers, of course, but also literature, travel, and politics, though we tread lightly on the latter topic. Finally, the food was gone, Doug, Pablo and Nordon drew cleanup duty, while Sariel (Nordon's wife) chose to go up to bed, but the rest of us moved to the hearth-warmed parlor off the lobby for after-dinner drinks, and a bit more socialization.

Rhona, the science teacher, and I settled onto the loveseat, and she graciously answered all my questions about her sailing. Rollins and Cluney, the businessmen took up a pair of club chairs on either side of a low table and began playing some kind of game that used stones and a board marked with grid-squares.

"But, Zoe, you should join our team," she said, responding to my interest.

"I wish I could," I said. " _Hamlet_ opens on Friday, and we play Thursday through Sunday for five weeks after. I can't risk something happening."

"It's a yacht race, Zoe, not an interstellar war…"

"Leave the girl alone, Rhona." Doug and Susannah came to join us, bringing everyone demitasse cups of drinking chocolate and paper cones with half-moon shaped butter cookies.

"A little something sweet before bed is a tradition here," the innkeeper explained.

"I like this tradition," Pablo appeared behind Doug. " _Mil gracias_ , Douglas."

"Oh, so do I. Thank you," I said. But I continued, asking "What's the game they're playing?"

Susannah and Rhona had started their own conversation, but Doug and Pablo followed my gaze to the men at the gameboard.

"Oh, it's a local game," the former explained. "It's called _Tog_. I can teach you, if you like."

"Tempting," I said, though it came out as a yawn. "But not tonight. I have a call to make before bed."

"A call? At this hour?" Pablo asked.

"Our young actress has a boyfriend on a starship," Doug explained, though his tone was meant to tease me. "Go on, Zoe. Let your fella know we're taking care of you."

I laughed at the good-natured joshing. "Thanks, I'll do that," I said. "Good night everyone."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46446.64**

 **(Friday, 13 June 2369, 12:36 AM local time)**

 **Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter**

I knew it was only my imagination, but subspace calls to the _Enterprise_ always seemed to take longer when I was tired, or worried, or missed Data a lot. We'd been sending brief recorded messages back and forth daily, but I hadn't spoken to him in real time since the first night I'd arrived.

 _"Commander Data here. Please go a- Zoe! I have missed you!"_ His words weren't yelled, so much as uttered in a brighter-than-normal tone.

"I've missed you, too," I said drinking in his image on the screen. "I wish…" I cut myself off, not sure what I really wanted. Me to be home? Him to be with me on Winter? Some new path for both of us where neither of us was away? I sighed, and started over, forcing a smile. "I wish I'd remembered to take pictures today. I spent some time outside, watching the water, and the ocean was beautiful. Did you know they have yacht races here, even in this cold weather?"

 _"I was not aware of that,"_ Data responded.

"One of the other guests here – Rhona – is on one of the teams. She's spending a few days before and after here at the Inn. She did ask if I wanted to join, but I can't risk an injury or delay… "

My partner remained silent for several seconds, but then he asked, in a somewhat softer tone, _"Zoe, is there something you are not telling me?"_

I refrained from complaining about his annoying tendency to be right about almost everything. "I've been really rocky in rehearsals. Wrenn actually talked about putting in the understudy… she sent me home early today and told me to spend the afternoon getting my head together."

 _"You knew your lines when we rehearsed together via subspace during your voyage,"_ he said, puzzlement evident in his tone.

"I _do_ know the lines. It's… I'm not connecting to the part. Something's holding me back. Susannah suggested that my problem might be that I didn't audition, so I'm auditioning in rehearsal instead of just playing the part."

 _"That is possible,"_ Data agreed. _"Do you agree with her?"_

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe. I think… I think there's something else. I think… I'm afraid of the mad scene. I'm afraid if I really let myself go into it, I won't come back out."

 _"I have never known you to be unstable, Zoe. Certainly, I do not believe you have the potential for 'madness.' If you wish, I will ask Counselor Troi to contact you."_

 _"I know. I'm just… I feel like there's something big about to happen."_

Realization dawned on my boyfriend's face. "You are anticipating another 'gift' from Lore."

It wasn't until he said it that I knew it was true. "Oh, god." And then. "Yes."

 _"Zoe?"_

I hated it when his features displayed worry (which he would deny he felt) or concern over me. "I'm okay," I said. "Promise."

 _"Zoe,"_ he repeated my name more firmly. _"Should you receive a gift from Lore you will inform your director, you will call the local authorities, and you will contact me. I do not think it likely that he will bother you on Winter, but if he should, I will come."_

Something in the way he said it made me see him differently, and it rocked me, a little. "God, you'd do it, wouldn't you? If I were seriously in need… you'd divert a starship to get to me if you had to."

 _"I am devoted to you,"_ was his simple reply, but as usual, it said everything. It said even more than those other three words, so recently offered.

"I hope… I hope I never need to ask that of you." I took a deep breath. "So, how are _you_? How's Spot? What am I missing?"

 _"I am well,"_ Data answered, taking my questions in order, as usual. _"Although your absence has caused my efficiency to drop by two-point-three-seven percent. Spot has been – I think you would call her 'clingy.' Evidently, she also misses you."_

"Misses my hair, more like," I grumbled good-naturedly. "But give her some extra cuddles from me, anyway?"

 _"Of course."_

"Where are you right now?"

 _"We are still engaged in 'the boring parts,' Zoe. Geordi has suggested an equipment reconfiguration that will improve the efficiency of the deflector shields by three-point-two percent, and another that will increase our engine output."_

"Go, Geordi! And you? Are you working on anything special?"

 _"Nothing of which you are not already aware."_

I nodded in response and let out another yawn. "Sorry," I said. "It was late before I made this call, but I… I really needed to talk to you in real time. Recordings are great, but…"

 _"But they are not the same,"_ Data finished for me. _"Do you think you will feel more 'connected' in rehearsal in the morning?"_

"Yes," I said. "I do. Susannah's chat gave me some perspective and talking with you _always_ helps." I took a beat. "Dad and Gia will be here next week. They've rented a house, and are staying here through September, because he'll be working with the local orchestra. Whatever they rented has a room they've offered to me, but I'm not sure I'll accept. I really like the inn, and I'm not in the mood to be 'Daddy's little girl,' right now. Not while I'm here working."

 _"I am certain your father will understand if you choose to remain where you are."_

"I hope so. I mean, I _want_ to see them but…" But my sentence devolved into another yawn.

 _"I believe, dearest, that we should re-visit this discussion later in the week. You are tired. Please go do bed, and rest well, knowing that I love you."_

Those last three words sent a thrill through me that I would probably never tire of. "I love you, too. Goodnight, Data."

 _"Goodnight, Zoe. Data out."_

The comm system went dark, and I shut down the computer and the desk lights as well and went to complete the quick version of my bedtime routine. Maybe it was silly, but I set my padd to play the mix of songs he'd recorded for me the previous summer and fell asleep to the sound of Data singing.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46461.77**

 **(Wednesday, 18 June 2369, 1:07 PM, local time)**

 **Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter**

"Zoe, a moment?" Wrenn Hagen called to me as I was heading to my dressing room five days after I'd nearly been fired. I knew she'd been pleased with my work since then, but a flash of worry ran through me anyway.

"Sure," I breezed, pretending I wasn't nervous. "What's up?" I walked over to where she was standing with another woman who had close-cropped black white hair and looked to be at least seventy-five years old.

But Wrenn directed her comment to her companion. "Maggie, may I present Miss Zoe Harris, our young Ophelia?"

The older woman's face stretched into a broad grin. "Zoe! You don't mind if I call you Zoe, do you? You look familiar."

"Yes, Maggie, you saw her in the recordings from Idyllwild's _Tempest_."

"I know that, Wrenn, I meant… Harris… Harris… You aren't related to Zach Harris, are you?"

"I'm his daughter," I said. "Are you Maggie Jankowski, the artistic director here? Dad told me I met you when I was little."

"One and the same!" she declared. "And I do recall a dark-haired child hovering around _il Maestro_. How is your father?"

"Divorced," I answered. "And remarried. He and Gia – my stepmother – are arriving on a transport this evening. He's leading the orchestra later this summer."

"Aha! I thought I'd heard he'd be visiting my domain. Too bad he won't be coming to the invited dress; his opinion would be invaluable, and his presence good press."

"I think you'll find Zoe is a decent press draw on her own," Wrenn assured her boss. To me she said, "I didn't want to spook you considering our rocky beginning, but we've been getting calls about you. If you're willing, they'd love to see you on the morning shows early next week."

"I have to clear all press with my agent," I said, feeling kind of snobby and amazingly professional at the same time. "But if she has no objections, I'm happy to do whatever you need."

"I'll have our press rep contact Bernie."

"Okay," I said.

"You and your family must join me for dinner while they're here," Maggie added. "I'm going to go mingle with the press and the donors. Break a leg, Zoe. Wrenn… I'm excited about this."

"Me, too," Wrenn admitted.

I left them and went to change.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46462.39**

 **(Wednesday, 18 June 2369, 6:32 PM, local time)**

 **Fogg City Spaceport, Winter**

"Dad! Over here!" It was the first time I'd been the one to meet my father at a spaceport, instead of the other way around, and I was enjoying the hell out of it.

"Zoetrope!" My father swung me into his arms but put me down very quickly. "Oof! In my head you're still my little girl, but in reality… I think maybe you should be lifting me."

"Funny, Dad. Very funny." We embraced a little more sedately, and then he stepped back and looked me over from head to toe. "You look good, kiddo. Happy."

"I am, happy, Dad. Really." I saw Gia approaching with David in a stroller and moved so I could greet her. "Gia, it's good to see you." I was only slightly surprised to find that I meant it. Our hug wasn't as intense as the one I'd shared with my father, but it wasn't awkward, either.

"It's good to see you, too, Zoe." She turned her attention toward the baby. "Zekey, do you remember your sister? This is Zoe."

I squatted down so I was at eye-level with him. "Hey, Zeke."

"Zee!" he giggled out the word.

"Yeah," I agreed. "That's right. 'Zee!'" I glanced up at Gia. "I'm guessing that's 'Zeke?'"

"Today, anyway," she agreed, faint amusement in her tone.

"Well, Zeke, _I_ remember _you_."

He cocked his head at me. "Zooooo!"

I laughed. "That'll do." I stood up again. "So, the rental agent confirmed your house was ready at three this afternoon, and I've got the key cards for you. A family-sized flitter is waiting in the garage for your use. Did you want to grab dinner somewhere, or get take out and go straight there?"

My father laughed. "That's my Zoetrope, always moving. Actually, we're waiting for someone. Her transport came in about the same time ours did, so she should be here any mom – "

"There's my darling family!" My father was cut off by the ringing voice that had been one of my constants for as long as I could remember.

"Gran? What are you doing here?"

"What indeed? I came to see my favorite granddaughter play Ophelia. Come here, child. Give me a proper hug."

Rather than pointing out that I was her _only_ granddaughter, I did as I was bid, stepping into the warmth of the faux fur coat she'd chosen to wear. "I've missed you," I told her. "So much."

"I've missed you, too, child. Now… shall we go somewhere where we can all catch up properly? Zachary said something about a house…?"

"My flitter is in the VIP lot," I said. "You'll need to hand over your luggage chits at the gate, and they'll transport baggage directly to the 'car."

"You're driving an aircar?" My grandmother seemed skeptical.

"I passed my licensing exam almost two years ago, Gran. I've almost qualified for low-warp shuttles, too, but I don't have enough hours accrued."

"I didn't think you were interested in being a pilot," the old woman continued.

"I'm not," I said. "But with the amount of traveling I'm likely to be doing once I start at Yale, Data thought it would be a useful skill to ha-" I trailed off, realizing that Gran, my father, and Gia were all exchanging knowing looks and seemed to be holding back laughter. "What?"

"So, who had twelve minutes?" Dad asked.

"What are you…?" The light dawned. "Wait, you were betting. You were all _betting_ on… what? How long it would be before I mentioned Data?"

Gia reached to put her arm around me. "For years he's been a central figure in everything you've said to us, Zoe. Every call. Every letter. You can't blame us for wondering how long you could go _without_ talking about him."

"He's not actually the only thing in my life," I said, caught between being amused and finding it insulting, "but sometimes he's the biggest part." I sighed. "We should get going. It's going to be dark outside, and if I'm hungry, I know you all must be."

"Let's get take-out." My father finally answered the question I'd asked several minutes earlier. "We can grill Zoe in comfort."

 **(=A=)**

Dad had rented a house that was just down the road from the inn, so grabbing Chinese food – every planet with a human population greater than twelve has at least once good Chinese restaurant – and heading to their place for dinner didn't take me off my path at all.

We spent the meal alternately catching up, and cleaning up, the latter mostly involving my little brother's artistic relationship with food.

"I'm really confused, Gran. What made you decide to come here, too?" I asked as we were resting from finishing our first plates, but not quite ready for seconds.

"Is it so odd that I wanted to see you before you take off for Earth? I'm told you won't be visiting home en route."

I had the decency to look slightly ashamed. "No. Data and I have a vacation planned, but taking this gig changed our itinerary, somewhat."

But my grandmother wasn't judging me. "Of course, it did, darling. And none of us are surprised. Just as we're not surprised that you've already planned to spend your winter break with him.

"The _Enterprise_ – our quarters there – they're home to me right now, Gran."

"And that's as it should be. You're a young woman in love, and you and Mr. Data are building a life together. Which is the other reason I came out here to the planet summer forgot. I want to meet him."

"You _want_ to pass judgement," my father accused, bringing cups of hot tea to each of us. Gia had slipped away to put a tired Zeke to bed.

"That's not true…" my grandmother said, but when we both responded by merely staring at her, she amended, "Well, it's not entirely true. But I do need to make sure the man my granddaughter has given her heart to is worthy of the gift."

I rolled my eyes at that. "You make it sound like I'm a crown princess and you're worried I'm marrying a peasant." As soon as I said it, I realized how it sounded.

"Marriage?" My father jumped on the topic. "Zoetrope, you're not even nineteen."

"I wasn't being literal," I said.

"You sure about that?"

I sighed. "We've… discussed it. Vaguely. As a future likelihood. But, Dad, I promise, nothing has been asked or answered." _Well, that was technically true._ "And nothing will keep me from going to Yale. I need to go. I need to do it for myself."

My father and grandmother shared a look, and something unspoken passed between them. "Zoe, darling," the older woman said, "are you sure you don't want to stay here at the house with us?"

"It's opening weekend, Gran. It's going to be intense and frenetic, and when I'm in the midst of that I like to come home to quiet. I can do that better at the inn than I can here. At least for this week. Once we're open, I'll see how I feel, okay?" I was silent for a moment, but then I added. "I'll be here lots though – so much that you'll all get sick of me."

Gran smiled. "Your father is actually much the same. I'm not sure if you were aware…"

"Dad?" I turned to him.

"We always stayed in hotels away from the theatre district, for just that reason. You complained about it, once you were old enough to care."

Memories came flooding back. "I remember," I said, smiling. "I thought you were trying to keep me out of the public eye, but I guess it was a breather for you, as well." I didn't mention that it had made his habit of sleeping with my au pairs easier to conceal. He wasn't like that anymore.

Gia finally rejoined us, accepting a cup of mint tea from my father. "You know, Zoe, I was never a fan of tea until I met you." It seemed random, but I recognized that she was trying to bond with me.

"Me?"

"Yes. You asked your father to have some around for you that first Christmas, and when you left early, I found myself drinking it in the evenings."

I smiled at my stepmother. "Dad – and Data, for that matter – will tell you that I'm a coffee person, and that's true, but… tea is better for serious conversation. That's actually how Data and I started becoming friends."

"Oh?" She made it clear that she wanted to hear more, and I realized that Dad and Gran didn't know the history of my relationship with my partner, either.

"Yes, three years ago, Data took our math class to Serenity V – that was when Dad sprung you on me—"

"I remember," Gia interjected. "That _wasn't_ the way I'd wanted to meet you for the first time."

"I wasn't exactly at my best, that trip, either," I confessed. "I was really mad at Dad for not telling me he was dating, and mad at Mom for not telling me the divorce had been finalized. There might have been a _lot_ of guilt shopping on that trip."

"Might?" Dad teased. "My bank account is still feeling the pain."

We all laughed at that, but I picked up the thread of my story after a few seconds. "Anyway, T'vek and I had just started to date, and we'd snuck of our bunk rooms on the shuttle and piled pillows in the corridor between them. It was originally a make-out session, but then we fell asleep, and Data found us… not like it was hard, it was only a type one runabout, but he sent Tev to bed, and promised not to tell our parents. But I was wired, and you know, once I'm up, I'm up for hours, so I asked if I could replicate tea and sit with him while I drank it."

"Weren't you only fifteen, then, darling?" Gran asked.

"Yes, but… Data and I had only been doing Saturday Sessions for a few weeks at that point – Saturday Sessions are what we called my music theory tutorial - and we were only just getting to know each other as people, not just teacher and student. So, I brought a mug of tea into the cockpit, and we talked for a while and then I went back to bed. A few weeks later, after he'd been kidnapped by this guy who collected rare objects, and wanted to add Data to his collection, I found out I was on his notification list."

"That soon?" Dad seemed surprised.

"Believe me, I was blown away when Geordi told me. When he got back, he went into this broody mode where he didn't socialize and canceled classes, and I convinced him to let me in one night… and when he realized I was upset about losing my friend, he made tea again… it sort of became a thing. After quartet rehearsals, or after Saturday Sessions, we'd have tea or lunch… and then after the Borg attack, and the battle at Wolf 359, when Tev and I went back to the _Enterprise_ ahead of schedule, Data basically set up camp in our living room while Mom was in sickbay, so I wouldn't be alone… he was this quiet solid presence… never made me feel like a kid, just made it clear he was being a supportive friend."

"I remember you starting to talk more about him after that trip… We liked T'vek, Zoe, but…"

"Tev and I would have imploded, eventually. We're both too reckless. Too impulsive. Data… Data grounds me. I mean, he supports the things I want to do, and he's really good about encouraging me to stretch, but he also brings me back to center when I get too out there."

"And you stir him up, a bit."

I acknowledged my father's comment with a brief nod. "Well, I got him to wear civvies off-duty, so…"

"It's more than that, Zoetrope. I've seen you together and heard the way you play music. You're in synch."

I smiled. "I usually just say that we fit." Laughing, I added, "Data says it, too, now." I lifted my mug to drain it, only to find it was already empty. I stood up and began collecting cups and dessert plates from everyone. "I'm just going to get rid of these for you, and then I should head back to the inn."

My father rose to walk me out. "We'll see you at the theatre before the show?"

"You're all on the VIP list for coming backstage, and for the after party, and Susannah said she'd sent over a list of local babysitters who were licensed and certified?"

Susannah and Doug handled the rental contracts on several houses in the area, as well as running their inn.

"She did," Gia called from the living room. "We're all set."

"Good. I'll see you all tomorrow."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46473.44**

 **(Sunday, 22 June 2369, 7:25 PM, local time)**

 **Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter**

The comm-unit in my room was chiming to alert me of an incoming call just as I was finishing my post-dinner, post-matinee bath. I wrapped the fluffy cotton bath sheet firmly around myself and went to answer it.

"Data! I knew it would be you!"

 _"I hoped it was late enough that you had completed your usual Sunday evening rituals. I see that I was a bit too early."_

I glanced down at the towel covering my breasts and then back up at the screen, favoring my partner with a wicked grin. "Not _too_ early," I said. "If this channel is secure, I could lose the towel…" Teasing him over subspace was more for my benefit than for his.

 _"While I find you aesthetically pleasing in any state of dress, a subspace strip tease is unnecessary at this time."_ He paused. _"However, if you wish to perform one for me after I arrive, I will not object."_

"You're still planning to get here on the twenty-third of July?"

 _"I am."_

"Four more weeks… it seems like no time at all, and forever, both at once."

 _"To me, Zoe, it 'seems' only like… four more weeks without you."_ He took a beat. _"Did opening weekend go well?"_

"It did. Maybe it was the excitement of actually performing, or maybe it was having my family there, but I feel like I've finally clicked with Ophelia the way Wrenn was hoping I would. I loved the flowers, by the way. It never would have occurred to me to combine irises and calla lilies in a bouquet, but they are so fresh and crisp. You got my message about them?"

 _"I did, but I am gratified to hear it 'in person.'"_

"Dad was impressed by your thoughtfulness. Gran and Gia wondered why you didn't send roses. I explained that you know I'm not fan, but Gran kept insisting that roses are traditional, and anything else could bring bad luck. As if anyone really believes in that."

 _"You are getting along well with your family?"_

"I am. I'm even going out for a spa day with Gia tomorrow, so I'll look my best for Tuesday."

 _"What is happening on Tuesday?"_

"Oh, nothing much. Your girlfriend is being featured on the morning news, is all."

 _"An interview?"_

"Yes. Speaking of which… we're not hiding our relationship, are we? If I'm asked about my personal life, I can mention your name?"

 _"As with the interviews last year, Zoe, if you are asked, be truthful, but do not volunteer unnecessary details."_

"I never do, Data. You know I'd much rather be asked about my work than you. I mean… I love you. I'm proud to be your partner, but…"

 _"I understand,"_ he said.

"So, anything new with you." He was accustomed to my abrupt changes of subject. Unlike most people, he could also keep

 _"In fact, there is. As you are aware, when our relationship was in transition from friendship to our current romantic partnership, I often sought advice from Counselor Troi and Geordi."_

"I've heard some stories about that, yes." My tone betrayed my amusement, but I knew he wouldn't be offended.

 _"We have spent much of the last week at a communications relay station near the border of Klingon space. Originally, we were there to determine why the signal from the station had stopped, but our mission became a murder mystery."_

"So, you got to get your Sherlock on? Sorry I missed it, Basil, darling."

 _"Dearest…"_ Data always used that endearment, in that tone, when I was being too snarky, even for him.

"Sorry, go on?"

 _"In this case, it was Geordi who was the lead officer, as the mission involved decoding many messages and computer logs. In the process, he developed an attraction to a person of interest in the investigation, an officer assigned to the station."_

"Geordi's in love?"

 _"He appears to be, yes."_

"She wasn't the murder victim, was she?"

 _"No. Lieutenant Uhnari was not the victim, though for a time, she was suspected of killing her station partner."_

"Did she do it?"

 _"She did not. The actual culprit was a coalescent organism that took the place of the lieutenant's canine companion."_

"It killed a _dog_? That's horrible!"

 _"It killed a human being as well, Zoe."_ Data's tone was only slightly reproachful.

"Yes, that's horrible too," I responded. "But, how is this related to you asking Geordi for advice?"

 _"After it was discovered that Lieutenant Uhnari was both alive and innocent, Geordi sought my advice about how to approach her."_

I smiled. "You _are_ the only member of the senior staff who's in a long-term relationship."

 _"Precisely,"_ he agreed.

"So, what did you tell him?"

 _"I explained that a wise woman of my acquaintance often recommended caffeinated beverages as the appropriate option for initial encounters."_

"You told him to invite her for tea or coffee."

 _"I believe I said that."_

I laughed. "So, you did. Did your sage advice work?"

 _"Geordi and Aquiel are now 'an item.' However, she will be leaving on a transport back to Earth for re-training and reassignment in three days."_

"Aww, that's hard. Are they going to try to the long-distance thing?"

 _"I am not certain of what they will do. For now, they are enjoying one another's company. It is possible the lieutenant may join our crew at a later time. There are positions in Communications that will soon be available, but Geordi says that Aquiel is insistent that she earn an assignment to the Enterprise on her own merits, and without a referral from him."_

"Well, good for her integrity, but kinda sucky for their relationship, I guess."

 _"Indeed."_

"Let me know how it goes?"

 _"I will do so."_

"Tell him I said hi?"

 _"I will do that as well."_

"Make four weeks be over tomorrow?" I was teasing about the last one… mostly.

 _"If I could, Zoe, please believe that I would."_

"If anyone could, it would be you," I countered. Then I sighed. "I should go. It's been an intense weekend, and I'm tired. I'm not ready to sleep, yet. I'm planning to curl up with a book for a bit and get to bed early."

 _"A wise idea. Rest well, my beloved."_

He'd never called me that before, and I could feel my expression going all goofy. "I love you," I told him. "Talk soon."

We each raised our hands to our viewers to 'touch' palms, and then I cut the signal.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46526.73**

 **(Saturday, 12 July, 6:13 PM local time)**

 **Crystal Theatre, Fogg City, Winter**

With four weeks of performances nearly complete, I'd fallen into a sort of rhythm, occasionally punctuated by an interview or a random subspace call from friends or family. My father, stepmother, and grandmother had all attended our opening night performance, but since then, I'd only been spending time with them on non-performance days.

Data, my mother, Geordi, Annette and Ray, and even Captain Picard, had sent flowers, though they'd apparently coordinated, because I had something from Data _every_ week, and something from someone else came staggered throughout the run.

On days when I wasn't performing, I was enjoying playing tourist with my family. Some of the places we went, like the maritime museum, and a bookpub – a bookstore with a bar at the back where locals hung out playing board games and card games – I planned to show Data, if we had time, while others were more interpersonal. Gia and I ended up going for mani-pedis twice, and while I was never going to accept her as a parent, we did manage to build a strong friendship, and her advice was often useful.

Post-show days typically involved dinner with some or all of my castmates. My Hamlet was a local actor, and he and his girlfriend, who played one of the unnamed Ladies in the show, were having great fun showing me their old haunts.

Similarly, the actor playing Polonius, who was married to our Player Queen, had sort of adopted me mid-way through rehearsals, and even though my fellow guests at the inn had offered, it was he, Jeroen, who ultimately taught me how to play _Tog_ , which turned out to involve a lot more strategy than I'd thought when just watching.

In fact, backstage _Tog_ tournaments had become a regular thing among our entire company.

"Zoe, baby, it's you and me across the board tonight," Jeroen said as I walked back toward my dressing room after a late lunch between our Saturday matinee and evening performances. "Think you can take me this time?"

"I'll be giving it my best shot," I told him. "I've been playing with Dad."

"Cheating, youngster?" he teased.

"Practicing," I corrected, tossing the word over my shoulder as I unlocked my dressing room door.

I felt something 'off' about the space as soon as I walked in. Nothing had been obviously moved; nothing appeared to be missing. Data's most recent bouquet was still on my dressing table, but there was a new bouquet next to it.

"Lights up, full."

The room illumination blazed into almost sunshine-bright, but I remained near the door, transfixed. The new bouquet was stunning. Two birds of paradise. Deep green grasses. Columbines. And the final touch? Affixed to a stick that was designed to look like a perch was a stuffed bird. I didn't need to step closer to confirm what kind. It was a pigeon.

I managed not to scream. Instead, I activated my personal comm, and called my father and Wrenn, and then sent a message to Data. As it was going through the public comms and not direct subspace, it would take hours to get to him, but it wasn't like he could actually _do_ anything.

Dad had chosen to watch the play again that night, and it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that he came running.

"Zoetrope, what is it?" My father had pulled me into a protective embrace. "Talk to me sweetie."

"The bird…" I said. "It's from _him._ "

"You know that for sure?" Dad asked. "You read the card?"

I hadn't. I hadn't _had_ to. "I can't."

"You must. Come, we'll read it together." Holding my hand, he led me to my dressing table, and plucked the card from the center of the arrangement. "Here."

It was the same fine paper Lore always used. Trust him to be a stationery snob. In the back of my mind, I wondered how he'd managed to get it to Winter, but I pushed that thought away and focused on the note in my hand. "A pigeon for my pigeon. Sorry I couldn't make it for opening night. You might think me mad, but I am pigeon-liver'd and lack gall."

I dropped the note on the floor, and my father bent to pick it up. "We should call the local authorities, Zoe, and ensure Lore isn't actually here."

"Who's Lore?" Wrenn had arrived and was standing in the doorway. "Zoe, you're white as a sheet; what's wrong?"

"Lore is… well, my partner calls him his brother, but really they were simply both created by the same cyberneticist. He… he's been stalking me since before Data and I were anything more than teacher and student. He kidnapped and raped me about a year and a half ago, and he's been sending me gifts ever since. Always pigeon-themed."

"Why pigeons?"

"I made a flippant remark once about not being his carrier pigeon – he'd wanted me to deliver a message – and he decided that was his nickname for me." I elaborated, because she needed to know, but she was contacting the local police before I finished speaking.

"Police will be here shortly. We need to ensure that this wasn't delivered personally, and that you're safe. Are you okay to go on?"

It was a legitimate question. I took a minute to take stock of my mood. I was a little bit angry, a lot shaken, and a touch scared, but I thought I could channel all those things into my performance. "I'm good," I said.

"Okay."

I asked Dad and Wrenn to step outside while I changed into my costume, and then invited them back in as soon as I was done. The police had shown up by then, and I answered their questions as succinctly as I could.

"Your partner is a Starfleet officer?" the lead cop asked me.

"Yes, assigned to the _Enterprise._ He's due here on the twenty-third."

"There's some question about jurisdiction, if this is planetary or Federation. It would be best if we could speak with him."

I provided Data's contact information and warned the officers that I wasn't certain how far away the _Enterprise_ was at that moment.

They took the bouquet and the note, made sure I had _their_ contact information, and promised they'd be in touch. It was all I could expect.

 **(=A=)**

 _"This nothing's more than matter,"_ Ronell, the actor playing Laertes gave my cue. I'd been okay for the entire performance, though a bit flightier than usual in my movement, but the scene we were doing was an iconic one, and I felt myself slipping a bit.

 _"There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray,  
love, remember: and there is pansies. that's for thoughts."_ I responded with the beginning of one of my character's most famous passages.

 _"A document in madness, thoughts and remembrance fitted."_ Ronell spoke as Laertes again.

I began the main paragraph that was often referred to as Ophelia's 'mad scene.' I was fine when I began, but when I got to the word 'columbines' I started flashing back to the different encounters I'd had with Lore.

 _"There's fennel for you, and columbines: there's rue  
for you; and here's some for me: we may call it  
herb-grace o' Sundays: O you must wear your rue with  
a difference. There's a daisy: I would give you  
some violets, but they withered all when my father  
died: they say he made a good end,"_

My next line was half-sung: _"For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy."_

My own voice in that sing-song tone reminded me of being on Lore's ship. I had to focus on Ronell's face, forcibly remind myself of where I was. He gave his next line; I went on singing:

 _"And will he not come again?  
And will he not come again?  
No, no, he is dead:  
Go to thy death-bed:  
He never will come again.  
His beard was as white as snow,  
All flaxen was his poll:  
He is gone, he is gone,  
And we cast away moan:  
God ha' mercy on his soul!  
And of all Christian souls, I pray God. God be wi' ye."_

I made my exit at that point, grateful that my father and Wrenn were both waiting for me in the wings. Dad gave me a bottle of water and urged me to sip it, while the director assured me I was doing fine, that my own mood was working for the part.

I didn't argue with them, but I could tell they were both concerned. Still, I managed to hold it together through the end of the performance.

 **(=A=)**

"Darling, I think your father is right. You should stay here."

"I'm staying tonight, Gran, but that's it." It was after midnight, I'd done two shows and had a matinee the following afternoon, and I was tired and punchy. Dad and Gia were already asleep; it was just me and my grandmother having a last mug of tea in the living room.

"Zoe, you have a stalker. It's not safe. You must stay where you're safe; I absolutely insist."

I took a deep breath. "Gran, I love you, but I hardly think I'm any less safe at the inn than I am here."

"I'm certain your Mr. Data would prefer that you be with us."

"It's not his decision, Gran. If he were here, there would be a discussion, but he's not, and he won't be for ten more days. Dad asked me to spend the night here, and since I'm too tired to fight any more, I'm doing so, but tomorrow I'm going back to Goose and Turrets."

"You get your stubborn streak from your mother," the old woman observed. "Don't misunderstand me, child, I love the woman, but Emily could be so…"

She might have been speaking the truth, but I was in no mood to hear it. "Gran…" Just her name, in a warning tone.

"I'm sorry, Zoe. You've handled so much, so young, you can't blame us for wanting to keep you close."

I moved across the living room to hug her. "Gran. I don't blame you, really. But once I start hiding, once I let myself live with fear, I won't stop. It'll break me. I can't afford that."

"Perhaps we can revisit this discussion in the morning. Decisions are always better made over coffee."

"That's probably a good idea." We both got up and shared a hug. "I'm glad you're here, Gran. I'm sorry I'm being so uncooperative, really."

But my grandmother wasn't accepting that. "Oh, darling girl, you're not being uncooperative. You're just growing up." She kissed my cheek and I smelled her perfume and her face cream. "Sweet dreams, sweet girl."

I smiled. "I'll try."

 **(=A=)**

My personal comm woke me at ten in the morning: Wrenn was calling to ask if I wanted to let my understudy do the matinee performance that day.

"I think I'm okay," I told her. "But I don't know if the police will need me."

 _"If you haven't heard from them by noon, let me know. I won't fault you for taking the day to re-center yourself, Zoe. I promise. On the other hand, your heightened anxiety last night was magic on stage… it's up to you, hon."_

"I'll let you know after I've eaten and showered," I said. "My family made me stay with them last night, and all my stuff is at the inn."

 _"You might consider relocating to be with them for the rest of the run. I know I'd feel more comfortable with you not being alone."_

"I'll consider it," I promised. "Talk to you in a bit."

Almost immediately, a subspace relay was pushed through.

 _"Zoe! Are you alright?"_ Data's face filled the tiny screen. _"You are still in bed."_

"Dad and Gia insisted I stay with them last night, and when Wrenn called to check in with me a few minutes ago, it woke me." I took a beat, then answered his original question. "I'm okay. I was kind of shaken up last night, but local police were very helpful. They said they'd be contacting you?"

 _"They have done so,"_ my partner replied. _"You will be relieved to know that that Lore is not on Winter but sent the… bird… via an agent."_

"Not Ensign Sutter?"

 _"No. He was not involved, and in fact, sends his sympathies. I believe he is quite sincere in his apology for his own involvement."_

"You were following up on this all night, weren't you?"

 _"It was not 'my' nighttime, Zoe, but even if it had been, I would not have done anything differently."_ He paused. _"If you wish me to come to Winter sooner – "_

"No," I said, cutting him off. "I mean, thank you for offering, but I'm only shaken up. I'm not hurt, and if he's not actually here, I'm not in danger. I'm not, am I?"

 _"No, I do not believe that you are."_

"Dad thinks I should move out of the inn and stay here. Wrenn suggested it as well."

 _"Is that what you wish to do?"_

"Honestly? Not really. I mean, being here last night was fine, but… "

 _"But you are no longer a child, and you have settled into the Goose and Turrets."_

"Yes. There's that, but also, I committed to Doug and Susannah. I'm sure they'd be willing to cancel the rest of my booking, but I'd feel bad. And the house where Dad and Gia are staying is only like ten minutes away. By _ground_ car." I paused for a moment. "Do _you_ think I should relocate?"

 _"If you feel safe at the inn, then you should remain there. Perhaps you should return there this evening and 'see how things go.'"_

"That's actually a pretty good idea, Data. Thank you."

 _"You are welcome, Zoe."_

I smiled at his image on my tiny communicator. "I'm looking forward to your being here. That may be another reason why I'm not keen on moving in with the family for the next three weeks."

 _"That is understandable,"_ he said. _"Zoe, please remember that you can contact me at any time if something else should… occur."_

"You mean, if Lore decides to go further than expressing his feelings – whatever they are – with taxidermy? Seriously who _does_ that?"

 _"That, or any other incident."_

"I know. And I will." I glanced at the time. "I need to eat and shower and let Wrenn know I _am_ going on today. I'll talk to you tomorrow or Tuesday, unless something happens."

 _"Very good,"_ Data said. _"I love you, Zoe."_

I grinned and took the opportunity to flip the script on him. "I'm devoted to you, Data. Bye."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46534.48**

 **(Tuesday, 15 July 2369, 2:03 AM, local time)**

 **Goose & Turrets Inn, Foggville, Winter**

I woke up feeling like I was being watched. "Lights," I called, and my room was flooded with illumination, leaving me eye to eye with the pigeon – Lore's stupid stuffed pigeon – that was on the desk in my room.

The flowers it had been sent with had been disposed of, but the cops had given the bird back to me, in a transparent aluminum box that was designed to block any tracking signals or recording devices that might have been inside it.

"Though, we've scanned it six ways from the Sagitallan Sea, ma'am, and we can't find anything except a damned fine piece of art."

The officer had been right about that. On the night it arrived, all I'd parsed about the thing was _pigeon_ , but days later, with the determination that I was not in personal danger, I had a better look, and it was exquisite: glossy feathers, mostly grey but with hints of purple and ivory. Glass bead eyes that seemed to almost be alive. A cloth band of purple, red, and gold around its neck. And the feet, the claws, had also been painted purple tipped with gold.

For a psychotic android, Lore was extremely talented.

But even though I could admit that it was beautiful, I'd wanted to toss the pigeon in the nearest incinerator. The only reason I hadn't is that Data had requested he be allowed to examine it upon his arrival.

It wouldn't fit in the dresser drawer.

When I'd tried sticking it in the closet, I'd felt like it was waiting to pounce on me and peck out my eyes every time I opened the door.

And asking Susannah to put it in storage or my father to keep it for me seemed… wrong… somehow. It was my problem to deal with.

Except I was waking up every three hours feeling the thing staring at me.

"God, Data, I wish you were here," I whined into my empty room.

Then I got up, took an extra hand towel from the bathroom, and covered the stupid bird. Better. That was better. I set my padd to play the recording Data had made for me the year before, the one of him singing, on a loop. I got back into bed. I pulled the pillow that would have been my partner's if he'd been there into my arms.

It wasn't completely childish to sleep with the lights on, was it?

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46556.89**

 **(Wednesday, 23 July 2369, 6:22 AM, local time)**

 **Fogg City Spaceport, Winter**

One of the bonuses of my sleep being constantly interrupted by restlessness, the beginnings of nightmares, and just too much noise in my own head was that I was awake and sipping coffee eight minutes before my alarm went off. I didn't usually see the pre-dawn hours of the morning unless I hadn't gone to bed at all, but it was a special day: Data was arriving on Winter, and I was meeting him at the spaceport.

I finished the coffee and blueberry muffin I'd retrieved from the in-room replicator – I hadn't used it much, but for quick breakfasts it was nice to have – recycled my mug and plate, and took a quick shower. I dressed in a raspberry-colored sweater over jeans and warm boots and made my way down to the lobby.

Despite the early hour, Susannah was behind the desk. "You're up early, Zoe," she observed. "Everything alright?"

"Better than alright," I grinned. "My boyfriend is arriving this morning. It's alright that I'm adding him to my room, isn't it?"

The older woman smiled. "It's fine. I remember discussing it with you when you made your booking." Her smile faded somewhat. "I wish it didn't mean you'd be leaving us soon, though."

In a way, I felt the same. She and her husband had become true friends over the past several weeks, and I would miss them, and their cozy inn. "I'd love to keep in touch," I said.

"You'd better!" She glanced out the window. "You should get moving. Rush hour traffic will start soon enough, and I think we're due for a squall later today. Will you and… Commander Data, isn't it?" She paused so I could confirm that she'd gotten his name right. "Will you and he be joining us for dinner tonight or will you be with your family?"

"I'm pretty sure we'll be with the family. It's my last night without a performance, and Data and I are leaving late Sunday."

"If you'd like, invite your family here. Doug is a big fan of your father's music, and we haven't had a baby to coo over in a long while."

I thought for a moment. "Actually, if you're willing, could I host a brunch here for my family and whatever guests are around on Sunday, late morning?"

"A brunch?" I could see her start to plan it. "A brunch… pastries, egg dishes, fruits, breakfast meats… we could do that."

"Thank you. I think it would be a good way to say goodbye to everyone."

"I agree. You still want a bakery tray for tomorrow afternoon, for the theatre, yes?"

The cast had fallen into a pattern of bringing snacks to share every day, and it was my turn. "Oh, yes, please. And add the fruit and cheese we discussed?"

"Of course, Zoe. Now scoot. Your man is waiting for you."

Her last sentence was issued with a fair measure of affectionate teasing. "Going, going." I said. I exited the cozy warmth of the lobby and walked through the chilly morning light to my flitter.

 **(=A=)**

Winter's spaceport didn't see a ton of Starfleet personnel coming through – not in uniform anyway. It was one of the leading destination for people who loved winter sports, but when officers went on vacation they typically wore civilian clothes. Data, I knew, would arrive in uniform, partly because it would silently reassure me that it was really _him_ , but also because he would be treated better by people who didn't know him. I hated that he sometimes faced random bigotry, but I also knew that he was accustomed to it and could handle himself.

I grabbed another coffee – a mocha – from the Red Sands kiosk near the waiting area for Off-world Arrivals and settled into a chair. I'd been given an arrival estimate of seven-thirty, and I knew he'd have to register his shuttle, clear customs, and clear immigration before I'd see him. In the meantime, I had fun people-watching. Grandparents were meeting their grandchild, apparently home from a boarding school somewhere. A college hockey team from Caprica blustered through next, all loud voices and easy jocularity, poking their sticks at one another, and dodging them.

A glimpse of familiar mustard caught my attention, and I left my chair, tossing my cup into the recycling unit. "Data! Over here!"

Gold features went from neutral to - well, I wouldn't call his expression 'happy' - but there was a definite brightening, and obvious recognition. Yellow eyes focused on me, and in four quick strides he was close enough for me to hug.

His released the handle on his suitcase and returned my embrace, nuzzling my hair. "Zoe." All he said was my name, but it meant everything. After a moment, he stepped back and looked me over. Then he touched his lips to mine, and we indulged in the kind of kiss you usually only see in romance vids. I half-expected the flash of cameras, but there was no media following us here on Winter. We were just like any other reuniting couple.

Reluctantly, at least on my part, we separated, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. "Flitter's in short-term parking," I said. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not usually up this early, so I really need to go back to bed for a while, but you can explore the inn, or the waterfront or – "

"Zoe… "

"Sorry. I'm babbling enough for both of us."

"You often do so, when you are overtired. Direct me to your flitter, and we will return to the inn." He reclaimed the handle of his suitcase with his left hand, but his right arm he wrapped around my shoulders, and we started walking. "I have missed you, and I am glad that you met me here, but you did not have to forego sleep in order to – "

"Yes, I did," I said, cutting him off. "I absolutely did. How many times have you had anyone meet you at a spaceport?"

"Including both this morning and last summer in San Francisco, twice."

"That's why. What's why I had to come. When you walk into an arrivals lounge, you're confronted by all these people being met by friends and family - husbands and wives and lovers and – "

"And I cannot feel wistful, Zoe, or lonely. You know this."

"Maybe you can't _now_ ," I said. "But when we met you couldn't feel desire, and you couldn't tell me you loved me, so I have faith that someday you will have those feelings in your repertoire, and when you do, I want there to be good memories waiting to be re-experienced."

He didn't answer verbally, but he pulled me closer against him.

 **(=A=)**

Data volunteered to drive the flitter back to the inn, and I was happy to accept, though I didn't nap as he thought I would. Instead, I used the time to call Dad and let him know my boyfriend had arrived. "We're heading back to Goose and Turrets," I told him. "I really need more sleep and we need some time alone before we join you all, but I wanted to let you know that I'm hosting a brunch at the inn on Sunday morning before Data and I take off."

 _"A brunch sounds lovely, Zoe. Enjoy your reunion, and we'll see you later today."_

My father ended the call and I turned back to my partner. "You don't mind, do you? The family tonight, and brunch on Sunday?"

"Of course not, Zoe. I have been looking forward to seeing your family again, and finally meeting the grandmother I have heard so much about."

"I hope she likes you. If she doesn't, you might have to find yourself a new girlfriend." I was teasing him, and he knew it.

Nevertheless, as he deftly piloted the flitter to the edge of town, and then shifted smoothly into ground mode at the end of the inn's driveway, he told me. "I do not wish to 'find a new girlfriend.' I have found the woman with whom I fit."

Back in my room – our room – at the inn, after a brief introduction to Doug and Susannah, Data spent a few minutes unpacking while I sat on the bed and watched. Susannah had sent the housekeeper up early, while I was out, so everything had been refreshed.

I set the 'do not disturb' signal while Data was hanging things in the closet, but when he heard me yawn, he turned to face me.

"Zoe, I know from your messages and phone calls that you have not been sleeping well since the arrival of Lore's most recent… gift. I also know that you woke hours earlier than is typical for you in order to meet me this morning. Please go back to bed. I will not be offended."

"Are you eager to examine said gift?" I asked. "Because it's under that towel on the desk. But if that can wait, I wouldn't mind company." I paused, then continued flirtatiously. "I'm not so tired that I can't show you exactly how much I missed you."

Data's expression didn't change, but his voice was softer when he replied. "I will join you, but there will not be sex until _after_ you have slept, dearest."

And so, we set the windows to their 'blackout' position, stripped off our clothing, and curled up in the bed that had seemed too big for so many weeks.

 **(=A=)**

With the windows darkened, I had no sense of time, but I felt as though I'd slept deeply and well when I woke to the sensation of my partner's long, cool, fingers tracing random (to me) patterns on my skin. Knowing Data, they were probably intricate fractals.

"That feels nice," I said. I shifted my position, exposing one breast to him as I did so. Immediately, his fingers reached first to pluck at, then to roll, my nipple. "Oh… "

His gaze found mind and held it. "Are you sufficiently rested to allow me to continue?"

"Oh, please do…" I stretched so I could meet his lips with mine. "Please, please, do." I wasn't begging, not really, just being emphatic.

Data returned my kiss, but his hand was still playing with my breast, stroking, massaging, and then going back to tweak my nipple, sending little sparks of pleasure all through me. When I reached to touch him, though, he stayed my hand. "Allow me?" he asked.

And I agreed to let him have the _carte blanche_ I'd offered him over a year before, when this kind of intimacy had been new to us.

He was incredibly thorough, stroking, kissing, and licking every part of me until he settled between my legs and brought me to climax with fingers, lips, teeth, and tongue. He held me until my shivers subsided, and when I reached for him _then_ he let me indulge my own explorations.

The taste and faint scent of cashews filled me, and I squeezed my eyes shut for a second, to keep from crying. When I was ready – when _he_ was ready – I nudged him until he rolled onto his back, and I rode him until he called my name, with my hair forming a curtain around our faces.

"God, I love you," I told him, as post-coital lassitude began to take effect.

"I love you also," he responded softly, adding the phrase that always made me smile. "But I am not God, only Data."

"Today," I said, "I think you're both."

I napped more after that, but Data got up and showered, and by the time I was awake again, he'd completed his examination of the pigeon.

"The police said there weren't any tracking devices, or anything," I told him, even though he already knew that. I padded to the bathroom and used it, straining to hear his response.

"They were correct. It is merely a piece of taxidermy, and very well done I might add."

"Can we maybe not spend time discussing the artistic merits of dead poultry?"

"Pigeons are not technically 'poultry,'" he began, though he let the thought stop there. "I will replace the towel, so you do not have to see it."

"Thank you. I'm going to take a quick shower, and then you can take me to lunch before we head to Dad's."

"As you have been here for the past five weeks, perhaps it would be better if _you_ took _me_ to lunch," Data countered.

Standing in the bathroom doorway, I grinned at him. "I've missed this."

"Spending the day in intimate activities?" Data asked, "I have, as well."

"That, but also… I've missed you being infuriatingly right all the time."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate** **46558.23**

 **(Wednesday, 23 July 2369, 6:10 PM local time)**

 **The Harris rental house, Foggville, Winter**

"If you'll carry the cake, I'll grab everything else," I told Data as we parked the flitter in front of Dad's rental house. "Are you _sure_ you're ready for this?"

"Zoe, your concern is unfounded. I have met Zach and Gia before, as you know, and your grandmother cannot be as formidable as you think."

"I'm sorry, I just… Dad gave you the 'intentions' speech the first weekend you visited, and since then… I told them nothing had been technically asked or answered."

"That is true, but it is also true that we have discussed marriage as an eventual plan, and that our discussions have been growing progressively more substantive."

"I just don't want Dad freaking out."

"He will not, because he trusts you to make your own choices, as I do."

"And I want Gran to like you."

"While it is also my preference that your family accepts me, dearest, ultimately, the only person whose opinion affects our relationship is yours."

"Again, with the being right," I grumbled, but I was smiling when I said it. "Kiss me, and then let's do this."

Data lifted my chin and pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. "Your family is waiting."

We gathered the things we were bringing, and walked to the front door, where I freed a hand to activate the doorbell. Gia came answer the door and invite us inside. "Oh, good, I'm glad you're here. Zoe, I can't believe this is our last family dinner for a while. Data, it's so good to have you here. Oh, you have the cake. Fantastic."

Gia and I exchanged kisses on the cheek and she made the same gesture to my partner, who responded in kind.

"Does Dad know we're celebrating his birthday tonight?" I asked softly. "And should we just put all this in the kitchen, or…"

"The kitchen would be lovely, Zoe, and then come be social in the living room. Both of you. And no, he has no idea. He and Irene are out with Zeke right now."

"To get him out of the house?"

"It was the only way I could think of."

"You should have comm'd us!" I said. "We would have come earlier or invited him to lunch with us."

"No, Zoe, we wanted you and Data to have alone-time."

"Alright, but we would've – "

My stepmother gave me a gentle smile. "I know."

I led Data into the kitchen, where we put the cake on the counter, and the wine we'd brought in the fridge. Like the house in Beach Haven, the rental had a complete kitchen as well as a mid-range replicator, but my father had always preferred to cook, and so had Gran.

We'd brought a couple different kinds of local cheeses and a loaf of seeded baguette that Data cut into thin slices while I looked for a serving plate. Finding one, I asked him to arrange the bread while I sliced some of each cheese. One was very like a sharp cheddar, while the other was similar to Roquefort. I knew Gran would appreciate the latter, and Dad – like me – liked all cheese, but I wasn't sure about Gia. Still, I knew her well enough to realize that she'd be gracious.

The oven _dinged_ while Data and I were working, and Gia joined us in the room. "I hope you like eggplant parmesan, Zoe. It's your father's favorite."

"There are very few eggplant dishes I don't adore," I said. "Data?"

"I will happily sample whatever is served," he said. "I appreciate that you chose a main dish without meat."

"Well, Zoe might have warned us," Gia admitted. "Is that the cheese from that store on the waterfront?"

"Zoe insisted that we bring something to contribute to the meal," Data explained, confirming the source of the nibbles we'd brought. "We have also brought two bottles of wine."

"It needs to chill a little longer, though," I put in.

"Why don't we go sit in the living room," Gia suggested after checking on the eggplant and re-setting the oven timer. "I barely got to know you, Data, when you were visiting."

Data gave her his polite smile and deadpanned. "I did not feel slighted, Gia; you _were_ a bit busy at the time."

My stepmother burst out laughing. "So, I was."

Data and I chose one of the love seats in the room, falling into the same position we typically took on our couch at home, while Gia curled into a large chair that was angled toward us. I let their getting-to-know-you conversation drift over me, offering comments when they seemed necessary. I didn't often get to watch Data interacting with people who weren't scientists or other Starfleet officers, and I was enjoying watching him be slightly more animated than his typical 'officer mode' reserve.

We'd just decided that wine had chilled enough when Gran and Dad arrived home with a red-cheeked Zeke in his stroller. "Zoetrope!" My father handed his son off to Gia and came to embrace me. I expected him to merely offer a hand to Data, but when my partner rose to greet the new arrivals, my father pulled him into a rough hug, too. "It's good to see you, Data. Your journey was uneventful, I hope?"

"Yes sir, thank you," Data answered. He sat down again, and Dad perched on the arm of

I eased out of the part of the living room where we we'd been sitting, and moved around to the back of the couch, touching Data's shoulder as I slipped behind him, and went to help my grandmother remove her layers of outerwear.

"Oh, darling, thank you," Gran said. Looking into the mirror in the foyer, she refreshed her lipstick and plumped her hair. It had gotten greyer in the year and a half since I'd last seen her, and there were a few more lines on her face, but she still looked vibrant. "Did you and your paramour have a good day?"

"Paramour? Really? That's almost as bad as when Dad and Gia decided the appropriate term for him was 'beau.'"

"Well, 'beau' was appropriate, darling, when no one was certain how far your relationship had gone, but you live with him, so I think paramour is – "

"We typically use partner," I said, interrupting. "Or boyfriend for him, even though he never was a boy, really." I softened my tone. "Gran… I know I haven't been very detailed, and I don't know how much Dad has relayed but… this isn't a temporary thing. Data is… well… come meet him. You'll see."

My grandmother turned to face me directly and took both my hands in hers. Her fingernails were perfectly manicured, I noticed, but her fingers were showing signs of growing crooked. "I've been watching you these past few weeks. The way you volunteer to care for Zeke. The way you've made a friendship with Gia. Even the way you stood up to your father - to _me_ – when we wanted you to move out of the inn. You're not the wild child your mother dragged away from me, are you? Not anymore. And you're not the young woman experiencing her first love, like you were at your father's wedding. There's a new maturity in you, my darling girl, and it suits you."

"Oh, Gran…"

She laughed and pulled me into a warm hug. "I love you, my darling. Let's go meet your -  
I arched an eyebrow at her, and she changed tacks slightly. " - let's go meet _Data._ "

We re-entered the living room arm-in-arm, and Data came to join us. "Gran, this is my partner, Commander Data. And Data… this is my grandmother, Irene Harris."

Gran always seemed very regal, but in truth she was a fairly petite woman – about six centimeters shorter than me and built compactly. In that moment, though, she seemed like a grand empress as she looked Data over from head to toe. She was silent for a long moment, and so was Data, but finally, she smiled at him. "Commander Data, my granddaughter is quite taken with you."

"Please call me 'Data,'" he requested, as he almost always did. "And please understand, madam, that I am much more than 'taken' with Zoe. I am devoted to her."

Something passed between them, and for a few seconds I was terrified Gran would send him away. Instead, she burst out laughing. "Well played, Data, well played. For now, you may call me 'Irene.'"

"Thank you, Irene," he said, placid as ever.

And just like that all my worries about the evening disappeared.

We returned to the couches for a glass of wine – Dad had poured from one of the bottles I'd brought while Gran and I had been talking – and some of the bread and cheese, but we soon moved to the dining room.

Dinner was a boisterous affair. The food was excellent, and the conversation ranged from politics to art to music – "You two _are_ still playing duets, aren't you?" Dad demanded.

"We are, and it is my hope that we will continue to do so, even though Zoe has chosen not to make music her focus at university."

"But you're bringing your cello with you to Yale, yes?" Gran asked. "You have a gift, darling. Music isn't just what you do, it's part of who you are."

"So is acting, Gran. And so are a hundred other things. I have a rough idea of what I want to do… isn't this supposed to me my time to explore options and figure it all out?"

"I thought you were considering pre-law, Zoe?" Gia asked.

"I'm considering many things," I said. "My program is performing arts and social justice. It's an interdisciplinary course of study that could end up being pre-law, political science, or even just drama. I want to see where I fit."

"Do you agree with Zoe's plan, Data?" Gran asked.

"I agree that Zoe is young and should take the opportunity to experience a wide array of subjects and classes. She has often told me that she does not wish to be 'an idiot who cannot hold her end of a conversation. While I will – and do – offer advice when she asks, she is an adult, and must make her own choices."

Dad and Gia shared a look at that response, and I saw my grandmother nod her head infinitesimally. They were testing Data – testing both of us, really – and I was pretty sure he had passed.

We relocated to the living room for cake and coffee. My father was genuinely surprised that we were celebrating his birthday (it wasn't technically until Tuesday, but Data and I would be gone by then) and touched by the gifts we had brought. A fur hat and gloves from Gran, a couple of Winter's trademark sweaters from Gia, and a scarf from Zeke that just happened to match the hat. I'd bought him a deluxe set of _Tog_ \- he'd joined in a couple of games backstage – and Data surprised us all with a gift of his own.

"Zach, when my commanding officer learned I was coming here to spend time with Zoe's family, he generously offered a bottle of wine. I am certain that he meant me to present it as a 'house gift,' but since Zoe insisted upon purchasing several bottles of the local vintage, I believe it is an acceptable way to wish you a 'happy birthday.'"

Dad took the wrapped bottle, peeled away the paper, and read the label. "Chateau Picard… 2351. That's Zoe's birth-year." We all knew the last bit. "Thank you, Data."

"You are very welcome."

A cry from Zeke reminded us that the hour was growing late. I offered to help put him to bed, but Gia shooed me away. "You've been incredibly helpful, giving up your spare time for us, Zoe. Why don't you have a game with your father."

"But the dishes…" I protested.

"I'll handle them," Gran said. "I think this young man might volunteer to help me." She was staring pointedly at Data.

"I would be happy to," he said, and the two of them collected the dessert dishes and disappeared into the kitchen.

Dad and I set up the _Tog_ board and started a game. At first, I tried my best to hear what my partner and grandmother were talking about, but while I could follow the rise and fall of their voices, I couldn't discern actual words. I refocused on the game, trusting that Data would tell me all about it later.

An hour later, I'd won a game and my father had won two, the dishes were done, Zeke was fast asleep, and we were taking our leave. "I'm not sure how available I'll be this weekend," I said as we edged toward the door. "But I'll see you all Sunday at the inn, for brunch before Data and I head home."

There was more hugging, including, much to my surprise, one from Gran to Data, and then we were crossing the cold walkway back to our flitter.

I waited until we were back in our cozy room at the inn – a fire crackling in the fireplace – before I asked Data what he and Gran had discussed.

"There was nothing that you would find inappropriate or embarrassing," he assured. "However, I believe I can allay any remaining fears of 'what she thinks' of me."

"Oh?"

"In the kitchen, she pointed out that marrying young was something of a tradition for women in your family."

"She _didn't!_ "

"You are aware that I do not lie, Zoe. However, there is something else that transpired which you may appreciate."

"Oh?"

"When she embraced me as we were leaving, she asked me to call her 'Gran.'"

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46569.58**

 **(Sunday, 27 July 2369, 21:32 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

My last four days on Winter were a whirlwind of packing – I had acquired far too much stuff in two months – visiting favorite shops for the last time (and to show Data), and five performances in three days (matinees on Thursday and Saturday, evening performances Thursday, Friday, and Saturday – I'd allowed my understudy to do both performances on the day Data had arrived, and Sunday was the day the crew would be striking the set).

The closing night gala had turned into a rowdy evening of drinking and karaoke with the cast and crew. My parents attended only the gala, but Data stayed with me for the rest, and seemed to enjoy meeting my castmates, Wrenn, and Maggie. When I signed out of the theatre that last night, I felt like I was also signing out of one phase of my life and launching into another.

Two months before, I'd been dithering over participating in the high school graduation ceremony on the _Enterprise,_ but in many ways, my time on Winter had been my real graduation.

The brunch I hosted at the end had been the perfect grace-note on the symphony that had been the bulk of my summer. Doug and Susannah bonded with Dad and Gia, as I'd suspected they would, and I knew I'd made lifelong friends in them as well. The guests at the inn had turned over several times during my stay, but the final group I met were all quite congenial.

Best of all? I left with a case of the local wine I'd fallen in love with and four sets of _Tog._ One set, I knew, would stay with Data on the ship, and one would go with us to the house on Terlina III. The third, a smaller version, I planned to take with me to Earth, and the final set… I had a feeling it was an adequate payment for boxing lessons, books, and a tacit agreement that Captain Picard would always be among my mentors.

We were back at the spaceport by six at night, completing customs and emigration paperwork, and then doing pre-launch checks for our vessel.

"Data… where's the shuttle?" I asked when we'd finally arrived at the orbital spacedock. I'd been looking out of every viewport, trying to see which one he'd picked.

"Ah," he said. "We will not be using a typical shuttle. Come this way." One hatch opened into an airlock, and we stepped inside. As soon as the door behind us was sealed, a second hatch opened. "Welcome to the _Calypso,_ " my boyfriend said.

I stepped through and found myself in a newer, cleaner, fully furnished update of the sort of ship Lore had been using. "Data, this is a yacht."

"Yes, Zoe."

"You bought a yacht without telling me?"

"I would not make a purchase that large without conferring with you," he assured. "Captain Picard has given me the use of his yacht until I have delivered you safely to Yale at the end of August."

"Captain Picard did?"

"Yes."

I grinned. "He's kind of a soft touch, when he likes you, and thinks he can get away with it, isn't he?"

"I believe he would prefer you keep that information to yourself, Zoe."

I laughed. "Is it true the main cabin has a bathtub?"

"You will be welcome to explore the entire ship, as soon as we have cleared orbit and engaged the warp engines. The bridge is this way."

Data turned toward the forward section of the ship, and I followed, settling into the co-pilot's chair as if we flew yachts every day. I watched his elegant fingers move over a control board that was more advanced than any of the shuttles or runabouts I'd been in, and then turned my attention to the main viewer as the docking clamps were disengaged and we were leaving orbit.

Only after my partner put us into warp did I speak, and then it was merely to say, "Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"I love you."

"And I am devoted to you."

I knew there was a cabin with a proper bed but napping next to Data while he navigated had become a sort of tradition. He dimmed the lights, and I closed my eyes and let my partner fly us home.

* * *

 **Notes:** This chapter runs concurrently with the episodes "Aquiel," "Face of the Enemy," and "Tapestry." Zoe's lines as Ophelia are from _Hamlet,_ Act II, Scene 1 and Act IV, Scene 5. Susannah's advice to Zoe is paraphrased from something Nathan Fillion said at Dallas Comic-Con a few years ago. _Tog_ the game is based on Tak, the game played in book two of Patrick Rothfuss's _Kingkiller Chronicles._ The object is to use your stones to build a road across the board, while preventing your opponent from doing the same. (You can buy Tak sets, if you're so inclined.) Lore's note borrows part of Hamlet's line from Act II, Scene 2, but uses it in a different context.


	13. A Change is Gonna Come

**A Change is Gonna Come**

 **Stardate** 46578.4

 **(Wednesday, 30 July 2369, 15:55 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

Deep Space Nine was looming larger on the main viewscreen as we approached, and Data was on comm with the _Enterprise_ when I joined him on the bridge of our borrowed yacht. It might have been the middle of our afternoon, but the captain's cabin _did_ have a bathtub, and it was nestled into the curve of a viewport. There was something truly magical about soaking in tub of hot water and scented bubbles while being surrounded by starlight.

Data ended the conversation he was having and closed the channel. Without turning toward me, he asked, "Must I remind you that you still lack the ability to grow gills or a tail?" His tone was faintly wry.

"Can't hurt to try," I replied. "All bathtubs should be that luxurious. I can't quite imagine Captain Picard being so hedonistic, though."

"I do not believe the captain has had occasion to use the _Calypso_ , Zoe."

"Really? That's too bad. Maybe after we return it, he'll be curious enough to take personal time."

"I would not care to wager on such a possibility." Data adjusted a couple of settings on the navigation board. I stepped closer to watch his hands. Partly, I was trying to get a feel for the controls on this ship – they were far more elaborate than those on the flitters and shuttles I'd flown - and partly I just loved to watch his fingers moving with characteristic grace. "The _Enterprise_ will not be arriving at Deep Space Nine until after zero two hundred hours tomorrow morning. We are due to dock in approximately ninety minutes. Do you wish to secure a room in one of the transient hotels, remain aboard the _Calypso_ for the evening, or return to the _Enterprise_ when she arrives?"

"I don't see the point in paying for a room when we have a perfectly good cabin right here," I answered. "At least being aboard the yacht feels _almost_ like home, but if our own bed is really an option…" I let the sentence trail off.

"You are still experiencing homesickness." It wasn't a question.

"Not… not really homesickness. More… I'm feeling a little trepidatious about Earth and school and… everything."

"We will have nearly a month to ease your worries, dearest."

"I know. I'm just scared."

"Of not fitting in at Yale?"

"No. Of losing you. Of losing us. Of… I know what you're going to say: 'separation is sub-optimal, Zoe, but we have a strong foundation, and we must trust what we are to one another.'" I fell into his inflection as I was speaking, but it was affectionate imitation, not malicious mockery.

"Indeed." His head was slightly cocked to the side as he said it.

"How long until we reach the station?"

"Eighty-three minutes, fifteen seconds."

"I'm going to go change."

"May I ask why?"

"I may not want to spring for a hotel room, but I absolutely want you to take me to dinner. And maybe dancing if there's anyplace that offers it."

"I will contact the station and make arrangements."

I leaned around his chair to kiss him, and then made my way off the bridge and back down to the living quarters. _Enjoy it_ , I kept thinking to myself. _Enjoy every moment that you have and stop worrying about the rest._

 **(=A=)**

True to his word, Data found a restaurant on the station promenade that offered both food and dancing, and we spent a lovely evening, taking time to explore some of the shops I hadn't seen before.

Around midnight, we re-boarded to the _Calypso_ , where Data prepared to rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ slightly before the starship arrived at the station.

"I know I said I was happy to stay here," I said as I settled into the co-pilot's chair on the yacht's small, but efficient, bridge. "But I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, even if it is only for a couple of nights. Do we need to clear everything from this ship?"

"It will make it easier for you to pack for our vacation and for Earth, but I will collect everything tomorrow before my duty shift."

"You're _working_ the day before we leave for our proper vacation?"

"I agreed to complete one final shift before we leave, yes. It will allow you to 'blast rock and roll' while you pack."

"I'm beginning to wish I'd taken everyone's advice and packed _before_ I left for Winter."

"Whatever you cannot complete, I will assist with."

"After your shift. I know. Would you ask the captain if he could spare a few minutes for me? I'd like to give him his present in person."

"I will do so."

"I have the best boyfriend in the uni –" I began, but Data interrupted.

"Thank you, Zoe. I believe my girlfriend is equally superior, however, right now she should direct her attention to the main screen."

I followed the direction of his gaze and saw the great ship that was our home come into view. I'd experienced arriving and leaving via shuttle before, but the yacht didn't enter the shuttle bay. Instead, Data positioned us below the _Enterprise_ and then moved our vessel – which suddenly seemed tiny – up and into its position on the underside of the saucer.

We didn't actually hear any kind of click or snap, but there was a slight jolt as the docking clamps slid home, and the green light representing the hatch began to glow.

"That was cool," I observed.

Data didn't comment. He shut down the engines and set the power to minimum levels. Then he unsealed the hatch and offered his arm.

The early morning hour – it was nearly three AM on the _Enterprise –_ meant that there was no one to greet us as we disembarked. In fact, the corridors and lifts were eerily empty. A few minutes later, though, we were standing outside our quarters on deck two, and Data was unsealing the doors.

I followed him across the threshold and heard the door _swoosh_ closed behind me. Data surprised me, then, by pulling me close and kissing me. Against my lips, he whispered. "My Zoe… welcome home."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46578.78**

 **(Thursday, 31 July 2369, 06:11 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Enterprise**_

"Cold," I muttered into the semi-darkness of our bedroom. It took me a moment to register that the reason I was cold was that Data had left our bed. "Data?"

His voice came from behind me, toward the bathroom. "I am due on the bridge at zero-six-thirty. Do not get up."

But I did – to a point. I rolled over and sat up in bed. "I thought you were on vacation."

"I took a week of leave to be with you on Winter and bring you home. As I told you last night, Captain Picard has requested that we hold our departure until Saturday morning, and has requested that I complete a bridge shift today so that others may have time to explore Deep Space Nine. Do you not also have plans this morning?"

"I'm having breakfast with Deanna at seven-thirty. I've seen seven-thirty exactly once in the last six weeks. I can't afford to sleep much longer, but I'll probably take a nap, after. If we're not leaving until Saturday, at least I won't have to rush to pack."

"Begin sorting through the things you will require both for our vacation, and for your first semester at Yale. Whatever you do not complete, I will help with this evening and tomorrow."

I gave him a tired smile. "Thank you. I'll hold you to that." I angled my face up toward him. "Kiss?"

He brushed his lips across mine. "Please feed Spot before you leave to meet the Counselor. I will see you at lunch."

I watched him go, set an alarm for seven, and burrowed back under the covers.

 **(=A=)**

"A Romulan? Really? Wow, that must have been unsettling."

Counselor Troi had scheduled our breakfast in her quarters so that we could talk openly, and she'd been filling me in on how she'd spent the previous six weeks.

"Unsettling?" Her dark eyes were sparkling with evident amusement. "You and Data are _so_ married," she teased. "You're starting to sound like him."

"Yes, we eloped on Winter." I rolled my eyes as I said it. "The truth is… we've discussed marriage… a bit."

"Is that something you want with him?"

"Is it totally lame if I do?"

The Betazoid woman refilled her mug of chocolate and mine from a heated pot, then added steamed milk to both. "It's not 'lame' Zoe. It's not even unusual. You and Data have been dating for -what – two years?"

"It sort of depends what we count as dating. Data counts from when I was staying with him after my summer in San Francisco, but I'm not so sure those first weeks really – " Off a look from her I ceased dithering about it. " - but if we're counting from when we kissed the first time, then, it'll be two years in September."

"Close enough," she smiled. "And you moved in with him over a year ago. No one can say that you haven't given yourselves time."

"No, but they can accuse him of molding me, or being a cradle robber, and… I worry, Dee. I worry so much about how much our relationship might affect his career."

"Because you were his student?"

"Partly, but also because I'm only eighteen. Still. When we first started talking about marriage, it was abstract. Something to talk about _later_ , and I asked him not to propose before I turned nineteen. And now… I don't know… things feel different. On one of our date nights before I left for Winter, we actually discussed the possibility of having children, and how that might happen."

The older woman cocked her head at me. "I don't think it's the idea of marriage that's truly worrying you. Talk to me."

"Are you my friend or my counselor right now?"

"If you mean, is this a confidential conversation, then yes, it is. But my role in it is more friend than anything else."

"Data experiences desire now. He got to a place where he could accept that whatever he… feels… for me can be called love without sending his ethics program screaming. What if he meets someone better while I'm gone?"

"Better?"

"More suitable? Another officer, someone older, someone who's done with school, at least?"

"And what if you do?"

I shook my head. "How could anyone possibly be better than Data? He supports me, he encourages me, he listens to me, he doesn't soft-pedal things, ever." I smiled faintly, remembering our reunion a few days before. "He's sexy as hell, and really good in bed."

"Is he?" Deanna was teasing me again, a little bit.

I laughed. "I have no complaints. And that's all I'm saying."

I expected more teasing, but her tone was gentle. "Zoe, it's natural for you to be worried, but think. You spent six months away from the ship last year; did you and Data lose anything?"

"No. Our relationship got deeper. But he visited me on Earth, and on Hunter's Moon, and then he stayed with me for a month."

"And you think he won't visit you at Yale? Zoe, Connecticut is hardly the back of beyond."

"I'll be in a dorm, Dee. You can have a boyfriend from another school spend the night in your dorm room. Not a line officer from the fucking flagship. Sorry."

"Is that the only concern you have? Because I'm fairly certain there are hotels in New Haven?" She didn't pull out sarcasm very often, but when she did, she was really good at it.

"What if I fail?"

She met my gaze and held it. "What if you don't?"

I didn't have a good answer for her; we both knew it was just fear and nervousness. We talked about other things – shopping on DS9, my time on Winter – while we finished our breakfast of croissants, Greek yogurt, and fruit, and at nine I took my leave because the counselor had patients to see.

"Thank you for this," I said, hugging her in the doorway. "I'm going to miss our chats."

"You know you're welcome to call and write," she reminded me. "Data isn't the only one who wants to hear from you." Her arms tightened around me briefly and then released, and I went to start packing.

 **(=A=)**

"Zoe," Data called, his voice getting louder as he moved through our quarters from the main room to our bedroom. "I am home. Are you ready for – " he stopped speaking, staring at me. Well, technically he was staring at me sitting on our bed, surrounded by piles of folded clothing and two large suitcases on the floor behind me. " – lunch?" But he didn't wait for me to answer. Instead, he observed, "Dearest, even with your love of couture, this amount of clothing seems excessive for one semester away. Are you having difficulty determining what to bring with you?"

"Not exactly," I said. "It's just… I didn't know… I wasn't sure if I was supposed to leave anything here."

His eyebrows lifted, and his head lowered slightly, the way they always did when he was about to venture into uncertain emotional territory. "I do not understand. This is our home. It has been our home since Captain Jellico requested that we relocate, and we shared quarters for approximately one year before that. Why would you expect to clear all of your belongings out of our home?"

His repeated use of the word 'our' reminded me of when I'd first started spending nights with him, a year and a half before. Then, his use of the word had been a sort of invitation. I knew he meant it, at that moment, as a reminder and reassurance.

I sighed. "I don't know. I'm… nervous… I guess. This feels different then popping off to Winter for six weeks, or even doing the Idyllwild tour last year. This feels… permanent."

"Do you wish it to be?" His question was uttered in a mild tone, but it startled me.

"No, of course not," I said. "How can you even ask such a thing?" I paused for a moment, and then asked in a voice I knew sounded small, "You don't… do you?"

"No, Zoe, I do not. I wish for you to attend your university, and be happy and successful there, of course, but I will also wish for your return. Our home – and my life - are incomplete when you are not present." He took a long look at the stuff strewn all over our room. "It is nearly thirteen hundred hours. Let us go to Ten-Forward and share a meal. I will download a suggested packing list for university freshmen and we can go over it while we eat."

Not for the first time, I was grateful for his cool rationality. "I need to use the bathroom and freshen up," I said. "Five minutes?"

"I will be waiting."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46579.58**

 **(Thursday, 31 July 2369, 13:07 hours, ship's time)**

With a lot of the ship's company spending time on the space station, Ten-Forward was quiet. We chose a table near the center of the big window, where we could see the superstructure of Deep Space Nine curving away below us.

True to his word, Data had downloaded a packing list while I'd used the bathroom, and he presented it to me on a padd after I ordered a chicken Caesar salad and iced tea. "You only need to bring the things you will need for our vacation and your first four months on Earth, Zoe. It is likely that your favored attire of blue jeans and t-shirts or tunics will serve you well through most of that time, as long as you acquire outerwear appropriate for inclement weather."

"I'm just afraid I'll leave something here that I'll want or bring stuff I don't need. I almost envy you, right now. You'll be able to pack for a month away in five minutes."

"For most of my life packing for any trip simply meant bringing a spare uniform," Data confirmed. "The addition of civilian clothing to my wardrobe has expanded my options, but it also requires that I pack differently."

"And in translation that means…?"

"It may take me longer than five minutes to pack."

I laughed at that and saw the slight change in his eyes and lips that meant he'd wanted to provoke mirth. "I'm sorry, love," I said. "I'm emotional and antsy and both eager to get going and reluctant to leave."

"I understand," he said. "Did you nap after your breakfast with the counselor, as you mentioned?"

"No. I got home and felt like packing was such a huge thing I had to tackle it immediately. And anyway, I'm not really tired right now, I just… I'm all… "

"Then if I may make a suggestion, perhaps it would be beneficial for you to engage in a different activity and wait for me to assist with your packing after my duty shift is complete."

"What activity would you recommend, Data?" I could tell he had something specific in mind.

"You have not been swimming since before you left for Winter. Being in the water often improves your mood, and physical exertion will help reduce your 'antsy-ness.'" He watched me for a moment, but before I could respond, he added, "Zoe, it is not a bother for me to assist you with packing; I truly do not mind. I understand that there is an emotional component to the act that you perceive, and I do not. I am your partner; please let me do this for you, while you take the rest of the day to sort yourself out."

Put that way, I couldn't argue with him. "I'll go home and get a bathing suit when we're done with lunch," I said. "Oh! Speaking of swimming… when we get to Terlina III, can you scan the lagoon for me? I have a feeling it's meant to be swimmable but being eaten alive by alien creepy-crawlies is not on my agenda for the summer."

"Of course, Zoe. I would be happy to. Is there anything else specific that you wish to do while we are there?"

"Other than daily private tutorials in Cybernetics 101? Not really. I'm up for some exploratory hiking if it comes with baths or swimming, after. Do _you_ have specific plans?"

"You have asked for this time for us to 'just be together,' and I am looking forward to that experience. Like you, I am curious to learn what other secrets Terlina III might hold. I have no other agenda."

My salad and iced tea appeared then, and the pot of tea Data had ordered for himself, more to keep me company than anything else. The iced tea had a touch of mango in it, and after being cold for six weeks it was nice to be sipping something that tasted like summer. By the time I'd finished my salad, I was in a much better frame of mind, and really looking forward to the swim that had been suggested.

Almost as one, we rose from the table. "I'll see you at home in a few hours?" I confirmed.

Data leaned close and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. "Go swim."

 **(=A=)**

I'd spent a solid two hours in the ship's swimming pool, first doing some stretching and ballet barre work in the pool, and then swimming laps. I was more out of shape than I wanted to be but pushing through two months of not really using my muscles, helped my mood and made me feel like I could nap when I got home.

I took a quick shower in the locker room, and headed back to deck two, and home, running into Ray Barnett as I was entering a turbo-lift and he was exiting. "Sis! Are you back?" He'd taken to calling me 'sis' ever since he'd declared himself my unofficial older brother.

"Only for a couple of days. Data and I are leaving for an extended vacation on Saturday, and he'll be dropping me at school before he comes back to the ship."

"Gonna be quiet here without you."

"There are other high school students you can mentor," I pointed out. "And aren't you still dating Annette? I assume you'll be visiting her on Earth?"

"Yeah, we're still together… but it's hard, Zoe. You know what it's like being separated from Data, right? And our connection isn't anything like what you two have."

I understood, really, and I knew neither he nor Annette was expecting a lifetime commitment, but I felt the urge to protect my friend. "Promise me something?" I asked. I waited for his slow nod before I continued, "Wes broke up with Annette really abruptly. When you feel you've reached the end, be honest, and be gentle?"

"I wouldn't be anything but," he vowed. Then he grinned, "Hey c'mere." He pulled me into a rough hug in the corridor. "I might not get to see you again before you leave, Sis. You're gonna rock at Yale. And I'm here anytime you need a brotherly ear, you know?"

I grinned into his chest, then pulled away, taking one last look at his sandy curls and laughing blue eyes. "Thank you, Ray. You'll hear from me, I promise." I walked into the lift and he headed for the pool.

 **(=A=)**

All thoughts of a nap went out of my head when I walked into our quarters and was assaulted by the familiar scent of linseed oil. "Data?" I greeted. "I thought you were on duty until la- " I stopped and took in the result of an obvious painting frenzy. Pictures of smoke and water, anvils and birds' wings and a sketch of a man who looked the way I imagined Data would if he had more human-typical coloring. "What's all this? Are you okay?"

My partner turned his attention from the pair of easels he was using. "There was an… incident… in engineering not long after our lunch."

"Engineering? Is _Geordi_ okay?"

"No one was harmed," Data assured. "The chief medical officer from Deep Space Nine, Doctor Bashir, was in sickbay attempting to determine the purpose of a device he had procured in the Gamma Quadrant. I asked him to cease using ship's systems without permission, but the device was intriguing, so we brought it to engineering to investigate further."

"Okay, I get why that counts as an incident, but how did that lead to… this?" I made a gesture at all the paintings, then picked my way through them to sit on our couch.

"While we were testing the device, I was hit by an errant plasma beam."

"Way to bury the lede, lover-mine. I've seen what plasma fire does to you, remember? Do I need to make you strip to prove you're not crispy-fried?" I wasn't angry, exactly, just worried.

"I am fine, Zoe. The blast of plasma was neither intense nor for a long enough duration to cause damage. However, I did experience an aberrant reaction."

"Aberrant?"

"I had an… internal vision."

"A vision?"

"Yes. I lost 'consciousness' for approximately thirty seconds, but during that time I experienced a vision of walking down a corridor, where I discovered my father – as he might have looked at my age – forging something on an anvil."

"So, all these paintings represent what you saw?"

"Yes, it is my hope that by reproducing the images from my vision, they might make… sense."

"What did Geordi say?"

"Neither he nor Dr. Bashir was able to offer much insight. Worf suggested that my vision represented a need to find my father, but as I have accomplished that, and quite literally laid him to rest, I do not agree with his assessment. Rather, I believe there is another meaning I have yet to discern. Captain Picard thinks I will find the answer inside myself."

"Wait… you had time to have a vision, discuss it with Worf and the captain, and paint…" I paused to count "… twenty-three canvasses, but it didn't occur to you to let me know what was going on?"

"Without a result to give you, I did not wish to worry you."

"Too late."

"Zoe, I did not exclude you intentionally."

"Didn't you? Damnit, Data, if we're going to survive the next four years, you have to - " but my rant was cut off by the door chime. "Come in!" I said it at the same time he did.

"Data, what are you doing?" Geordi entered our quarters already talking. "Hey, Zoe, sorry to interrupt – wow." He let out a low whistle and repeated his initial question. "Data, what _are_ you doing?"

"He's painting," I said helpfully, glaring at my partner. "I think you might say he's been inspired," I added, in a decidedly snarky tone.

"I'll say," Geordi retorted.

Data's reply was addressed to both of us. "I have done as Captain Picard suggested. I have tried to explore the images."

"Has it helped?" Our friend asked the question I'd been too angry to voice.

"I am not certain." Data explained the order of all the paintings. "I began by painting the image of the blacksmith. Then I painted the corridor. After that, the anvil, the hammer, and Doctor Soong's face. The thought then occurred to me that I should paint smoke."

"Smoke? Why smoke?" Geordi asked.

I was watching both men. This was how they often worked on projects together, one prodding the other, and as much as I wanted to be involved, felt that I should have been told the second something happened, I also didn't want to interrupt a process that I knew was typically successful.

"I cannot explain it," my partner was explaining to his colleague. "It is not an image I saw during my vision."

"Well…" Geordi took a long look at the painting. "… you have the smoke coming out of a bucket of water. Blacksmiths used to use water to cool the metal. Maybe that's why you painted it."

"Perhaps," Data said. Then he continued his explanation. "After I painted the smoke, it then occurred to me to paint a bird's wing. I then drew an entire bird. A flock of birds flying in formation. An individual feather. If the image of a bird is related to my vision, I do not understand how. I am left with more of a mystery than ever." He paused and looked from me to Geordi and back. "I would like to recreate the experiment which caused my initial shut down.

"You what?" I asked, even as Geordi was asking his own question.

"What for?"

"I do not know how much longer my vision would have continued had I not been reactivated."

Geordi shook his head, "Data, that plasma shock almost fused your neural net." My gasp at that information caused both of them to turn toward me. Then Geordi went on, "I don't think it's such a good idea to try that again."

"Data…" I began, but my boyfriend continued his thought.

"I am aware of the risks involved. But I can think of no other way to investigate my experience. Will you help?"

"Don't do it, Geordi. You don't have a very good track record for experimenting with Data's head. Neither of us do."

"Zoe," Data set down both his brushes, and knelt in front of me, to meet my eyes. "Will you allow me to attempt this one more time? Please?" His voice was soft, only for me.

"You can be _such_ a manipulative ass," I hissed under my breath. A flicker of his eyes served as his acknowledgement that I was probably right. But the reality was that Data was reckless enough when something intrigued him, that he'd do it with or without my blessing. "I want to be part of it."

"Of course," he said.

"And I want Geordi to shut things down if there's any _hint_ of something going wrong."

"I agree," Data promised.

I took a deep breath. "If this gets you killed, I will commit suicide and haunt your afterlife for all eternity," I told him. But then I kissed him. " _One_ attempt."

"Geordi?" Data raised his voice to address the engineer, repeating his earlier question.

"Zoe… you're really on board with this?" I nodded, and he said. "Yeah. Yeah, sure. I'll go find Dr. Bashir."

"I will clean up here, and then Zoe and I will meet you in engineering where I will prepare the power transfer."

 **(=A=)**

I'd been to engineering in the middle of the night before, when only a skeleton crew was on duty and the lights were dim. Then, it had seemed quietly cozy, with Geordi's friendly manner pervading the space – setting the tone – even when he wasn't physically present. Being there in the middle – well, latter portion – of the day shift and finding the department similarly empty was creepier than it was anything else.

Data set about hooking up optical cable to a large device sitting in the middle of the central work table.

"Ah, Mr. Data," a skinny, young-ish doctor arrived with Geordi and greeted my partner. "Are you certain you wish to try this a second time?"

"I am certain," Data said. "Dr. Bashir, this is Zoe Harris, my –" He used the word he'd used when he'd introduced me to his friends at the conference on Hamal IV, the Hamalki word that meant 'lifemate.' We all had comm-badges with translation functions. We all heard the same word. "- Zoe Harris. Zoe, this is Dr. Bashir." I shot him a look that he ignored. "Zoe will be observing," he explained to the doctor.

"Ah, Julian, please," he said, recognizing that I wasn't in uniform, and was obviously too young to be an officer. We shook hands. "You're able to have romantic relationships?" he asked Data.

My partner's answer was succinct. "Yes."

"And you don't find it difficult to be in a relationship with an android?"

"Most of our differences are more male vs. female or Starfleet vs. civilian," I explained. I stole a chair from an unused workstation and sat down on it. "Or actress vs. scientist, I guess. How dangerous is this, really?"

The doctor glanced at Data and Geordi who were quietly continuing the setup process. "With proper monitoring, there should be no danger of injury."

I wanted to ask for a percentage, but sometimes numbers just make things worse, so I refrained. "Keep him safe," I asked softly.

"You have my word." His British accent made the words have more weight than I expected.

I watched as Geordi and Julian continued to make adjustments to the device. Data rolled a chair into its path, checked the angle himself, and then with a tricorder. Geordi pulled a length of optical cable from a nearby console, but he hesitated glancing at me. "Zoe, you wanna do the honors?"

"I thought I was done sticking things in Data's head," I snarked, but it was gentle snark, not the bitchy kind. "Is that okay with you, love?" I didn't typically use endearments with him in public, but then, he didn't usually refer to me as his lifemate and not just his girlfriend.

"I have as much confidence in the surety of your hands as I do with Geordi's," came Data's calm response. "Perhaps you should consider it part of your tutorial."

I laughed at that, even as the other two men in the room shared a puzzled glance. I left my chair and moved toward Data's. "Okay. G-man, tell me what I do?"

"G-man?" Geordi asked, amused.

"I'm nickname prone today.'

"Press right here on Data's scalp," the engineer said, guiding my hand. I pressed – avoiding the urge to play with his hair – and a panel slid open. "The cable goes…"

"I know," I said. I knew where the optical cable should be plugged in – I'd seen that panel open more often than not when we were in bed. I'd even asked once, how much playing with his hair I could do without triggering it. "All set."

I moved around to the front of Data's chair, crouching down so I could meet his eyes. I could tell he was concerned that I wasn't a hundred percent on board. Well, he wasn't wrong, but even though this would be a largely passive experience I wanted to give him some signal that I cared.

"Zoe…?" I wasn't sure if Data could tell what _I_ was thinking – he knew how to read my face and body better than anyone – or if he was voicing his own concerns.

I sighed. "Etudes," I said. "More etudes. We're going to be so good at this stuff eventually." I managed a saucy grin, brushed his lips with a brief, chaste, kiss, and then stood up and got out of the way.

"We're ready," Bashir said, as soon as I was back in my chair.

Data consulted the tricorder he was still holding. "I am also ready."

Geordi checked the console on the other end of the optical cable. "Okay, Data, we're going to monitor every subsystem in your positronic net. If I see any neural pathways overload beyond sixty-five percent, I'm shutting down the experiment."

Data looked from Geordi to Bashir to me, and back to Geordi. "Agreed."

"Initiating energy transfer." The engineer's voice was calm and steady. Professional. I found it reassuring.

Julian informed us, "Power levels are rising."

"It should be any second now," Geordi confirmed.

A beam from the device hit Data in the chest, knocking the tricorder out of his hand. I rose to fetch it, then returned to my chair again.

And for the next little while, we waited.

Watching an android dream – or whatever you want to call it – isn't exciting. Actually, it was a lot like watching a corpse, except Data's eyes were open, and I could see that he was breathing. I wondered if it would be different if he were dreaming while in bed. He'd told me he'd tried sleeping a few times, but it wasn't a topic I'd pursued.

"What was the tutorial Data referred to?" Bashir asked. I think he was trying to fill the quiet.

"Excuse me?"

"When you were opening the panel on his head?"

"Oh, that. It's sort of a joke. Private lessons in Cybernetics 101."

"May I ask how long you've been together?"

 _Well, it depends when we're counting from,_ I thought. But the reality was that Data and I were both counting from the same point, finally. "September," I said, giving him the same answer I'd given Counselor Troi. "It'll be two years in September."

"Forgive me," the doctor continued. "You seem… rather young."

"I'm eighteen," I told him. "I was sixteen then. Legal. Barely." I laughed ruefully. "I moved in with him a year ago May, but I wasn't home for the first six months because I was on tour with the Idyllwild Theatre of the Stars. I just got back from six weeks on Winter, playing Ophelia, and we're leaving on Saturday for a vacation at… at our home… before I relocate to Earth for university."

I saw Geordi's non-verbal reaction to my reference to Terlina III. I knew he'd likely ask Data about it, but I figured it was fair payback for the 'lifemate' statement.

"And you're not worried the separation will ruin your relationship?"

I laughed softly and quoted Data to the doctor. "You've never been in a long-distance relationship with an android." I glanced at the still form of my lover, my partner. "He promised me eternity; I have every intention of holding him to it."

"And I have every intention of delivering." Data was active and animated once again. "Thank you, Zoe, Geordi, Doctor. I have… learned much… from this experiment."

"I don't suppose you'd care to share with the group?" I was using snark to cover nervousness and we both knew it.

"I will share the details of the… vision… I just had, at home. For now, it will suffice to say that the images I saw during the time I was shut down were generated by a series of previously dormant circuits in my neural net. I believe Doctor Soong incorporated those circuits into my base programming, intending to activate them when I reached a certain level of development"

Geordi was called away by one of his underlings, so I removed the optical cable from Data's head, and closed this panel.

"But the plasma shock activated them prematurely," Bashir commented.

"That is correct."

The eager young doctor wasn't through. "I'm curious. Now that those circuits are active, what are you going to do with them?"

I held my breath, wanting to know as well. "Assuming Zoe has no objections, I plan to shut down my cognitive functions for a brief period each day. I hope to generate new internal visions."

"No plasma beams?" I asked.

"No plasma beams," Data confirmed. "I understand how to activate those circuits, now."

"Forgive me, Mr. Data, but it sounds to me like you're talking about dreaming."

"An accurate analogy," Data agreed.

Bashir's tone took on a sense of wonder. "Remarkable. You know, this is just the kind of thing that might get me published in the Starfleet Cybernetics Journal. Would you mind if I authored a paper on all of this?"

"Of course not," Data answered, but in response to a not-so-subtle cough from me, he continued, "as long as you limit your article to my… dreaming. My relationship with Zoe is not something to be studied. She is my partner, not a science experiment."

"I understand," Bashir said. "I'm sorry you're leaving so soon. I'd have liked to get to know you better – both of you."

"I'm sure there will be other opportunities," I said. "It was nice to meet you, Julian."

"I hope you will 'keep in touch,'" Data said.

"Thank you, Data," Bashir said, picking up his machine and moving to leave. "And sweet dreams."

We followed the doctor out of engineering but paused in the corridor. "It is after nineteen hundred hours," Data said. "Are you too tired to pack, if you leave the physical work to me, and simply point at what you wish to take?"

"It's been a long day," I agreed, "but if I eat something, and we work quickly, I think I'll be okay. Might have to be an early night, though."

"That is acceptable."

We headed to the turbo-lift that would take us home, but I had one more question. "Data… when you try dreaming again… can you alter the parameters of the program a little bit?"

"How so?"

"I get that you have to deactivate cognitive functions, but… can you maybe leave yourself some motor control. Watching you earlier… it was like watching a vampire sleeping during the daytime. I know this is my limitation as a human, and I'm sorry, but…"

"You wish me to be less rigid?"

"Only when we're together."

"Are you willing to help me test different parameters?"

I stifled a laugh at his phrasing. "Yes, of course."

"May I ask you a question?"

"Always."

"I 'woke up' as you were talking to Doctor Bashir about our relationship. You seem much more secure about us than you did even a few hours ago."

I thought about it for a minute. "I think," I said, "that talking about the times I've already been off the ship made me realize that I've been looking at my time at school all wrong. It's not going to be four solid years of separation. You're going to visit when you can. I'll be home with you whenever my vacations are long enough. And there's a break long enough for that at _least_ every four months. Four months is survivable. I mean, I'm going to miss you like crazy, but… "

He captured my hand, rubbing his thumb across the back of my palm. "Four months is still too long, but I agree, it is survivable. I am glad that you found a new perspective."

We were quiet for the rest of the ride back to deck two, but we didn't let go of each other's hands.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46580.29**

 **(Thursday, 31 July 2369, 19:23 hours, ship's time)**

When we walked into our quarters, I nearly tripped on a large trunk that was sitting in the middle of the entryway.

"That wasn't here when we left." I observed.

"I asked the quartermaster to retrieve it from the crew storage hold this morning. It was obviously delivered while we were in engineering," Data said.

"Obviously. Um… why do you have a trunk?"

Data led me around the thing and to our dining table. "I will explain over dinner. You expressed a desire for food earlier."

"Mind if I go change first?" I hadn't yet taken my seat.

"Tell me what you want, and I will have it ready for you."

I stared at him for a moment. "You don't have to always take care of me, you know. I'm perfectly capable of working a replicator. I mean, it's nice that you do. You're always so thoughtful. But I don't want… it's not a requirement, okay?"

"And if I wish to do these things for you, Zoe?"

"I'm not going to stop you. I just… I didn't want – don't want – you to think I take you for granted."

"I have never thought so. Go change. I will select a meal we have shared before."

I stretched up to kiss him. "Thank you." I went to change into one of his Starfleet Academy t-shirts and sweatpants, and to pull my hair into a ponytail. Then I returned to the table. "Vegetarian moussaka? Fantastic!" He'd divided a single portion into two and added servings of tabbouleh to each plate. "I suppose you have dessert planned also?"

"This meal was one of the first dinners we shared together. It seemed appropriate that it should be one of the last we eat here on the ship, at least for a while." Data paused a moment, filling a water glass for me from a pitcher. "I do have dessert planned."

We began to eat, but I hadn't forgotten the trunk in the middle of the room. "You promised me a story," I reminded him, even though I knew he hadn't actually forgotten.

"Do you remember Commander McInerny? You met at the Starfleet Academy commencement ceremony last year."

"Rose, yes. She championed your entry into the Academy, right?"

"That is correct. Once I was accepted, she appeared at the place where I had been staying and presented me with this footlocker. It is an old military tradition, one carried on by Starfleet, that cadets receive such things in which to store their belongings while they are at the Academy, and later as they work their way up the ranks, until the point where they are assigned single quarters. If you were to check the digital display embedded in the lid, you would find the entire history of my orders from the Academy to the _Enterprise._ "

"That's a neat tradition, Data, but why bring it out of storage now?"

"Because your preferred luggage, while ample enough for our vacation, will not hold the things you will need for your first semester at Yale. I cannot think of a better use for it, then traveling to school with you."

"It's a piece of you," I said, realizing he'd been listening all the times I'd commented that he would have my things surrounding him, but I'd have nothing of his. "Something of yours that I'll be able to see and touch… Data, that's very generous."

"It is my hope that it will help your dormitory feel more like home."

I resisted the urge to get up and hug him, only because I was still hungry and hadn't finished eating. "I'm sure it will… but… if there's room, I was wondering if I could have some of your art to take with me?"

"Which pieces did you have in mind?"

"You did a smaller version of the portrait of us from my father's party… I'd like that. And if you're willing, the sketch you did today of your father. Partly because it's you – it's your family – and partly because it's your work. There's a sketch of Spot you did, also… am I asking for too much?"

"Not at all, Zoe. I am happy that you wish to take these pieces."

"One more thing. It's not your art, exactly. On the data solid with the 'home movies' of Lal, there's a still image of the two of you. Could I have a copy of it?"

"Of course, if you wish. But, may I ask why?"

"Because she may not have been my daughter – I mean, I never even met her, and I was way too young to have been anything but a friend, if I had met her – but she's part of you, too. And seeing the video of you with her let me glimpse new dimensions of you, as well, and because… this is presumptuous… I feel like, as an extension of you, she's part of my family, too."

"You know… I'm legal now. You could show all the paintings you did of me two years ago. And the one from last year… the nude."

"I have no wish to share that one."

"But Data… look, I know painting is how you process things, but that painting is really good. One of your best. And I've been in enough museums and galleries to know."

"Perhaps, someday," he said. "But right now, I prefer to keep that piece private."

"Okay," I said. There was no point in arguing with him, not about that. "Will you bring an easel and painting supplies to Terlina III?"

"I had planned to, yes."

"And your guitar?"

"Of course, Zoe."

"And Spot?"

"I had not considered that. Lt. Barclay seemed willing to continue caring for her while I am away."

"I know, but this is a family vacation, and she's part of the family. We can leave her with Nonna and Papa or Mom and Ed while we're at the wedding."

"I will… think about it… while we pack. Are you ready for dessert now?"

"Packing first, dessert after."

"Very well."

With the list that Data had downloaded earlier, and his ability to make decisions without an emotional context ("Yes, Zoe, I realize that you wore that dress on your seventeenth birthday, but you have not worn it since. Perhaps you should either recycle it or donate it to the used clothing collection in the quartermaster's office. Many young officers do not have your resources for acquiring couture, but they appreciate being well dressed for special occasions."), my packing was done in under an hour. It helped that I was only packing for four months, and it helped more that I'd bought cold-weather clothes on Winter.

Jeans, sweaters, a few t-shirts, and my purple boots were packed without question, as was Data's old uniform jacket, the one he'd first given to me on Centaurus, lent to me after the fiasco with Lore's chip, and sent with me to San Francisco, and then Winter. Like the trunk, it was a piece of him I could carry with me.

Finished filling his (my) footlocker with things for school, including the art I'd requested, we turned to the things I'd need for our vacation: the dress I'd bought from Garak on DS9 (still in a box, I didn't want Data to see it before Maddox's wedding), a couple of bathing suits and pareos and casual clothing suitable for a jungle environment, as well as my oldest jeans and shirts – things I wouldn't care about if they got ruined while hiking – and a few sets of extremely sexy and impractical underwear – as well as proper hiking boots.

"Do you wish to bring your cello?" Data asked at that point, and I was caught in a sudden emotional snarl.

"I don't know," I said. "I'm not taking any music classes, but I know there are music groups on campus. It's possible we might want to play music while we're away, but…"

"I think you should bring it. As we are taking our own transport, you are not limited to weight or items, and if you find that you do not play at school, you can always ship it home, or store it with your family."

"Okay, I'll bring it."

"Then let us turn to what I will need."

Packing for Data was much easier. He packed a selection of civilian clothing, two uniforms, a set of pajamas, and three padds. The Caretakers (I always capitalized it in my head) would have our preferred toiletries waiting in the house, and he didn't need much anyway. His violin and guitar were packed into travel cases, and I remembered the game sets I'd brought home from Winter.

"Add this to your bag, please, and this to mine?"

"Zoe?"

"There's a game that I was introduced to on Winter. It's called _Tög_. I think you saw the set I gave Dad?"

"I recall. However, I did not have a chance to play."

"Well, it's a strategy game, but it's not based on war, like chess. You'll probably find it ridiculously simple, but we don't have a lot of games that just the two of us can play, so I bought a set to take to school, and a set to leave here, and a set to leave at the house… and a set for the captain. I thought he might like it, and I wanted to thank him for boxing lessons and conversation. Do you think you can get me in to see him before we leave?"

"I am certain he will welcome a visit from you, and I look forward to playing this game with you." Data said.

Finally finished, I was asked again if I wished to have dessert.

"I do," I said, "but not the kind that comes from the replicator."

"Ah. I believe I understand; you wish a different sort of 'sugar.'"

"Are you up to it? I mean, you've been shot full of plasma beam twice today."

Data answered by instructing the computer to dim the lights and leading me toward our bedroom. When I started to pull my t-shirt over my head, he stopped me. "Allow me, Zoe, please?"

I acceded to his request, letting him undress me, and then himself. The last thing he did was to free my hair from its elastic, and run his fingers through it, making it loose and wild.

Our bedroom had a window out to the stars, but while we were docked at Deep Space Nine, Data kept the view filtered because of my squeamishness. That night, however, I asked him to clear the filter. "You promise no one can see in?"

"No one can, Zoe, I assure you."

"Then make love to me in the starlight?"

" _With_ you, Zoe. I will make love _with_ you in the starlight."

And we proceeded to do just that.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46581.17**

 **(Friday, 1 August 2369, 03:07 hours, ship's time)**

We'd gone to bed earlier than usual, so it wasn't a surprise that I was awake in the middle of the night. Data was lying on his side, eyes closed. No padds or cables were evident. He didn't move when I slipped out of bed to use the bathroom, and it didn't appear that he had moved when I got back. He _was_ breathing, and the subtle _thrum_ of him was evident, but unlike a humanoid dreamer, his eyes weren't moving beneath those pale gold lids. I hadn't expected him to attempt dreaming again so soon, but I was enjoying the opportunity to watch him in what passed for sleep. With his features smoothed, but his basic systems functional, he didn't look like a corpse, as he had in engineering, or a broken doll, as he did when I'd seen him intentionally deactivated. He looked innocent. Younger. Vulnerable.

Still naked, I padded out to the replicator, but it wasn't the dessert I skipped that I asked for, it was something else. Not food. A sort of gift. I wasn't sure he'd use it, but I had to make the offer.

When I returned to our room, Data was sitting up and looking a bit disoriented.

"Hey," I said, slipping back into bed. "Good dreams?"

"I am not certain my dreams are good or bad, just yet, Zoe. They simply _are_. I never told you what I 'saw' during the experiment in engineering."

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." I kept my voice low, gentle. "I'm happy to listen if you _want_ to tell me, but they're your dreams, Data, and sometimes dreams can be pretty personal." I hesitated, then admitted, "I don't tell you everything I dream."

"Do you dream frequently?"

"Every night. Mostly good. Sometimes frustrating – before we were dating, I used to dream of _almost_ kissing you, and then getting interrupted. And you've seen what my nightmares are like."

"I have seen your response to them, but you do not often share the content. Does it not help you to 'talk them through?'"

I shrugged. "Sometimes. But if I'm really tired, talking them through can make them more permanent, and then when I go back to sleep, they come right back. That's what happened a lot right after I was raped."

"I remember."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up."

"It is alright, Zoe. I appreciate your candor, always."

"Do you _want_ to tell me what you dreamed?"

"If you are not too tired to listen, yes. If you would prefer to wait for a more reasonable hour."

"Is the original dessert you had planned something I can eat in bed?"

"It was chocolate raspberry mousse cake."

"Would you mind bringing me that, and a glass of cold milk?"

"I will return in a moment." Data was also still nude, and I enjoyed watching him walk to the front room of our quarters, and then return with a tray holding my dessert. He asked the computer to give us thirty percent illumination – enough so I could eat without making a mess, but not so much that it would pull us out of the intimacy provided by the darkness. "You will need to sit up straight," he said.

I moved back against the pillows and pulled the covers up around my hips. Data set the tray over my legs and then rejoined me. While I ate, he talked.

"The... dream… I had yesterday afternoon was much like the first vision I experienced. I saw my father working at anvil, hammering the wings of a metal bird. A raven. Then I was on the bridge, but there were no consoles, no horseshoe, only the captain's chair. One of my paintings was in the chair, others were propped up around it, and Spot was there, and our Ficus tree."

"Sounds kind of surreal. Go on?"

"My father appeared and told me that my vision was mundane. I did not understand what he meant, and I said so. He said that I was not meant to understand, that no man should know where his dreams come from, but that the fact that I _was_ dreaming meant that I had become more than a 'collection of circuits and subprocessors.'"

"Well, I could have told you that," I couldn't help interjecting.

"Then I was in bed – not our bed, but the bed in our old quarters, the one from before we were lovers, and my father explained that _I_ was the bird he was building in my vision. He told me to just… dream. And then I _was_ the bird, and I flew through the empty corridors of the _Enterprise_ and out into space."

He stopped talking, waiting for me to respond.

"Data… that's lovely. And it makes sense… you've changed so much over the time we've been together. A promotion… the ability to experience sex as more than just the physical act, desire…"

"Love."

"Yes, love."

"When I realized you were asleep, I decided to test a set of new parameters for using these circuits, as you asked. A 'softer' position, closed eyes… was it less unsettling for you?"

"You looked like you were asleep. I mean, you don't have a REM response… ironically your rapid eye movement tends to happen when you're awake… but aside from that? I'm pretty sure if I'd slipped back into bed and tried to wrap your arm around me, you would have let me."

"That was my hope."

"I appreciate it, Data, really, but… I think I should learn to accept your dream state without that change, too."

"We will continue to experiment, then."

"As you wish," I teased, using the phrase he had so often used with me.

"Do you wish to know about the dream I had in our bed?" He seemed both eager, and almost shy.

"Do you want to tell me?"

"I think you will find it reassuring; you were there. You were swimming in the lagoon on Terlina III. I was on the patio, painting you."

"That sounds very pleasant," I said, though I could see what his father meant by 'mundane.' Those were all things likely to happen in the next month.

"It was. You were pregnant."

I nearly knocked over my glass of milk. "What?"

"You were also a mermaid."

"What?"

"You were pregnant, and you were a mermaid. At one point you flicked your tail and splashed water at me."

"Data, stop… please?"

"You are uncomfortable."

"I'm eighteen, Data. I love you, but I'm not ready to even think about having children. Years. We won't be ready for that – _I_ won't be ready for that – for _years_."

"I am not 'ready for that' either. I believe that vision was caused by my… feelings… for you, and the conversation we had about Lal during dinner."

I took a couple of deep breaths. "That's plausible," I agreed. "Data, you know I do want that, someday, right?"

"I know."

"Just not right now."

"I know that, as well." He was silent for a couple of heartbeats. "Would you prefer that I refrain from sharing my dreams with you?"

"About that…" I reached for the item I'd left on my night stand. "I replicated this for you while you were… is sleeping an appropriate analogy?"

"It will suffice."

I handed him a cardboard-bound paper notebook, and a pen. "This is a dream journal. I know you'll retain a perfect memory record of everything you experience, but a lot of people think the act of writing something longhand helps you experience it differently. Consider it part of your experiment?"

Data ran his fingers over the journal. "I see. I will follow your suggestion. Thank you, Zoe."

"If you still want to share with me, I _do_ want to hear… I just don't want you to feel obligated." A thought struck me. "Exactly how much of my conversation with Julian Bashir were you aware of?"

"I heard you refer to the house on Terlina III as 'our home.'"

I felt my cheeks grow hot. No longer interested in my dessert – I'd eaten most of it, anyway, I removed the tray from my lap. I was going to set it on the floor, but Data took it from me and returned it to the replicator before I could.

"I know I shouldn't have said that," I admitted. "I was… you introduced me as your lifemate." As he had before, I used the Hamalki word, or as close to it as I could come.

"I did not mind," Data said softly. "I know you are drawn to the house. I do not object to making it our 'home base,' if that is what you wish."

"It's your father's house, Data… but I know you were never there, except when he compelled you to come, and then again last year."

"It _was_ my father's house, Zoe. Now it belongs to me. I have no memories of living in the dwelling on Omicron Theta, but I have fond memories of the brief time we spent there last year, and I am looking forward to building _new_ memories there this month."

"Alright, then."

We were both silent for several seconds, which stretched into a minute. Finally, Data asked, "Are you ready to return to sleep now?"

"I think so."

"May I hold you?"

I smiled. "I'd love that."

"I love you, Zoe," he whispered.

"I love you, too, Data."

He instructed the computer to extinguish the lights, and I let myself sink into the familiar sounds of his heartbeat, the underlying _thrum_ – more a feeling, truly – of his internal systems, and his fingers roaming gently over my skin. Before I gave myself to sleep, though, I had one more thing to say.

"Data?"

"Yes, Zoe?"

"Don't you think it's kind of ironic that you dreamed of me as a mermaid, when you're the one who's constantly reminding me that no amount of submersion will give me gills or fins or a tail?"

His tone was laced with the faint touches of amusement and wonder that were typical for him. "Yes, Zoe."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46582.31**

 **(Friday, 1 August 2369, 13:06 hours, ship's time)**

Data had let me sleep myself out, an indulgence I'd really needed after late-night cake and conversation, so I wasn't out of bed until after ten. At that point he'd presented me with morning coffee, and reminded me, "We will be launching the _Calypso_ at zero-seven hundred hours tomorrow morning," he reminded me. "I will load our belongings today and complete the maintenance pre-checks. As we will be largely off-grin for the next two weeks, you may wish to contact your parents."

I spent the rest of the morning doing just that. I talked to Mom and Ed, I talked to Dad and Gia and Gran, and I talked to Nonna and Papa. I left messages for Wes, who was doing summer coursework at the Academy, and Annette, who was on vacation with friends. Dana had called me on Winter to let me know she was doing a pre-semester seminar at RISD, and to contact her when I was settled at Yale, but I called her anyway, and we had a great chat. I couldn't track down Josh. Rryl and Serena were on their honeymoon, but they sent a few pictures of themselves and their baby – a girl they'd named Lukkasa.

It was weird to think that we'd seen each other every day for several years and might never see each other again, and I resolved not to let that happen. I'd tell them of my resolution, later, but the comm-calls that morning were the first step.

By the time Data returned to our quarters to join me for a light lunch, I was talked out, but I still had one more task to complete. I had to report to sickbay.

"You're fit as ever, Zoe," Doctor Crusher said, when she'd completed the mandatory physical I had to have before starting school. "Nervous?"

"Only entirely," I quipped. "And only when I'm awake. But talking with Deanna really helped, and Data is being incredibly supportive."

"He's good that way," she agreed.

"Yes, he is. So, what's next. Yale said they sent a list of required vaccinations?"

"They did, and you're current on everything. We need to renew your birth control, but not until December or January, which will be a little early, but not so much that it will cause problems. I've sent a copy of your medical records to the health office."

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"I've also put together an emergency medical kit in case there's anything on Terlina III that's toxic, or that you're allergic to. Do you mind taking it back to quarters?"

"I'm guessing that was Data's idea."

"You guessed right."

"He can be _such_ a mother hen."

"He cares about you, Zoe. Let him worry over the little things – he can't protect you from anything that might happen while you're on earth."

"And I can't protect him from his own recklessness while I'm away," I pointed out. "Watch over him for me?"

"I promise." She patted my shoulder. "Hop down."

I did, and I surprised her with an impulsive hug. "I won't say you've been like a mother to me," I told her, "because my own mother is still very involved in my life. But you've given me a lot of support and guidance, and I appreciate it."

The doctor returned my embrace then sent me packing with an admonishment to "Keep in touch, Zoe."

I promised that I would.

 **(=A=)**

A couple of hours later, I was in Captain Picard's ready room waiting for him to leave the bridge. Data had asked him to spare some time for me, and the captain had readily agreed. I'd wrapped his _Tög_ set and brought it with me.

I was watching his fish when he came in. "Is Livingston being a good host, Ms. Harris?" he asked with his customary mix of affectionate humor and bluntness.

"Oh, yes sir," I said. "He's been incredibly welcoming."

"That would be the first time he's been so," Picard retorted. In a slightly warmer tone, he invited, "Come sit, Zoe. I'll replicate tea; milk and sugar?"

"No milk, lemon if it's no trouble."

It took only a moment, and then he joined me, settling into one of his club chairs while I sat on the couch. He served the tea, but it was slightly too hot. "Commander Data said you wished to see me. You weren't in the mood to spar?"

"Only verbally, sir. I'm woefully out of practice. There aren't a lot of gyms with heavy bags on Winter."

"No, I suppose not." One of his legs was crossed over the other and he was stirring his tea with precise movements. "Data was kind enough to acquire a recording of your performance as Ophelia. You were quite believable."

"I struggled a lot, at first, but I found my rhythm, eventually, sir."

"A little struggle isn't a bad thing, Zoe. It builds character."

"Some would say I have enough of that already." Banter had always been a normal part of our chats.

"Perhaps, then, it will serve to temper you somewhat," he countered.

I had to give him that one. "Perhaps." I picked up my own tea, which was cool enough to drink by then. "I brought something back from Winter for you. A game. Data has a set as well, if you need a partner, and I know it's nothing huge, but I wanted to thank you for the boxing lessons, and the conversations, and your time, over the last year and a half." I handed him the wrapped box.

The captain's fingers were weathered and calloused, and he didn't have the grace that Data did, but there was still something elegant about the way he plucked at the edges of the wrapping paper to reveal the game inside. " _Tög_ ," he said. "I'm not familiar with this game."

"I was introduced to it one night at the inn where I was staying," I explained. "It's a strategy game… you build a wall across the board, before your opponent either succeeds or stops you."

"You've learned to play?"

"Not terribly well."

"Mmhmm. Set your cup down, Zoe. We'll play a game, shall we?"

I hadn't expected that but saying no would have been a very bad idea, and I was curious. "I need to let Data know I may be later then expected."

"Do that," he said, "while I read the rules." And he pulled the data flimsy out of the box and began to scan it.

Data seemed unsurprised by my announcement. _"I may be later than anticipated, also,"_ he said over the comm system. _"I am bringing Spot to see Doctor Crusher to have her cleared for travel."_

"You decided to bring her!" I don't know why that made me happy, but it did.

 _"Indubitably, Zoe. This is a family vacation, after all."_

A little over an hour later, the captain had won two out of the three games we'd played, and seemed enchanted by the game. "You said Data had a copy of this?" he asked.

"He does. We're also bringing a set with us."

"Tell him I expect him ready to challenge me when he returns." He said it in his half-teasing voice while he was packing away the pieces. "As for you, young woman," he rose, and I did also. "I'm heading down to Holodeck Three. Care to join me for one last sparring session?"

I glanced down at my clothing – I was in a blouse and jeans and chunky-heeled boots. "I'm not really dressed for it," I said.

"Neither am I. The holodeck will provide appropriate attire."

"I'm guessing refusing your invitation would be inexcusably rude?"

"Quite right. Frightfully so."

"Sparring sounds great, sir."

 **(=A=)**

If the invitation to the holodeck had come from anyone other than Captain Picard, I might have been suspicious, but he and I had sparred in a virtual environment before, when working with a heavy bag wasn't enough for whatever new skills he'd been trying to impart. So strong was my vision of the man that I didn't think to question it when the holodeck doors opened onto pitch blackness and not the usual grid. So much trust did I have in him that I almost missed the soft lapping of water, and the faint echoes of music and laughter.

In fact, it wasn't until the captain engaged the computer with the command "Ahoy!" and the lights came up, that I realized what was really going on: the holographic environment that came into view was no boxing ring. Instead, it was a pier leading out to a luxury yacht – a motor-driven yacht – with dual decks and (I was guessing) a below-decks suite of rooms that was likely as lavish as those on the captain's _actual_ yacht – the one he'd given to Data and me for the duration of our vacation.

"I don't understand…" I told him.

"Ms. Harris – _Zoe –_ did you really think we would allow you to head off to university without a proper send-off?"

"This is why you asked us not to leave 'til tomorrow, isn't it, sir?"

"Quite so," he said. "Shall we board? People are waiting to see you."

A gangway was lowered, and Data descended to join the captain in escorting me onto the yacht. He was dressed in casual clothes appropriate for the venue. "Welcome to the _Morning Star,_ " he said. "If you will come with me, dearest, I have arranged a more suitable outfit for you."

I glanced at Captain Picard, who gave me a nudge toward my partner. "Join us on deck as soon as you've changed, Zoe. I have a boat to launch." And he disappeared up the stairway that lead up top.

"You did this," I accused my boyfriend once we were alone.

"I… was involved in it, yes," he admitted. "Do you object?"

"No. Not one bit."

 **(=A=)**

The outfit Data had selected for me turned out to be the red dress from my seventeenth birthday, the one he'd tried to get me to donate because I hadn't worn it since then. I usually wore it with heels, but he'd provided gold sandals, the flat kind that were a more delicate version of what gladiators once wore. They were comfortable, and they fit perfectly.

Once changed, I allowed him to lead me topside, where most of the senior officers were spread out on couches, loungers, and chairs. Notably absent was Lieutenant Worf, but he and I barely knew each other, and I'd heard from Data that the big Klingon had left the previous day on a vision quest of his own.

"Zoe, sangria or champagne?" A jovial Will Riker set down the trombone he'd been playing and came to join us.

"Sangria, please." I rarely had the fruity drink and I wasn't in the mood for bubbles.

He went to the bar and returned with two glasses – the second, which _was_ champagne, he handed to Data. "Join the festivities, Commander," he teased.

"Of course," Data responded. I don't think I'd ever heard him not call Will 'sir' before.

For the next several hours there was music - Data joined the band with his oboe for a couple of songs – laughter, food and drink, and conversation. At first the party included a great many people – Laura Gilbert, Reg Barclay, and the rest of the members of the theatre group. Cress, Dennis and their partners and children attended, the Bass brothers made an appearance, and the O'Roarke and the Potts families came to represent SOAR. Lasso stopped by for a while, as did Ray, and finally Guinan, though she apologized for not being able to linger. She pulled me into a brief embrace before she left, though, and gave me a packet of the tea she'd brewed for me once in her quarters. "For when you need to call on your inner child."

Terri Potts also had a gift for me, though she stressed it was from all of SOAR. "We know you and Data aren't officially married, and won't be for a while," she said, handing me a package, "but we had a feeling you'd appreciate this.

I opened the package and laughed, because inside was a sweatshirt with "I'm a proud supporter of my Starfleet partner" and the 'fleet emblem on the front, and "ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-D" on the back.

"It's perfect!" I said. "Thank you."

Finally, the only people left aboard the _Morning Star_ were Data's closest friends – the Captain and Dr. Crusher, who were sitting together, Will and Deanna, Geordi, who had brought Robin Lefler as his 'plus one' because he knew she and I were friendly, though she had departed when Reg did.

Data guided me over to the group, where I showed off my sweatshirt.

"Zoe, that's perfect!" Deanna gushed.

"That's what I said." I glanced at Data, "And you better believe I'll wear it."

He acknowledged that with a nod.

"Ms. Harris," the captain began, coming to his feet. Everyone else followed his lead. "There is an old military tradition on Earth – an Army tradition, rather than a Navy rite – called the 'Hail and Farewell.' Starfleet doesn't practice it, but you are a vital part of the _Enterprise_ company, not just my second officer's partner. We wish you well, young woman. You will be missed while you are gone and welcomed home most heartily when you return." He lifted his glass in my direction. "To Zoe."

Everyone else echoed him, but it was Will who demanded, "Speech!"

I laughed, but I felt my eyes growing misty. Then I took a breath. "It's no secret that when I first came to the _Enterprise_ it was because my mother dragged me here kicking and screaming. But once I gave it a chance, I found friends and mentors and a man I love more than I thought possible. What at first felt like a prison eventually became a place of possibility, as well as my home. Thank you, all of you, for your caring, your advice, your assistance – even when I didn't want it – and for never treating me like a child, even when I truly _was_ a kid. Data knows how much I don't want to disappoint _him,_ but I hope I can make you all proud of me." I paused and met the captain's eyes. "And sir, when I come home this Christmas, I'll be ready for a _proper_ sparring session with you."

"I look forward to it," he said, with good humor. "Just remember to drop that left shoulder."

"Yes, sir. Absolutely."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46584.16**

 **(Saturday, 2 August 2369, 05:17 hours, ship's time)**

As was customary when we were home and together, Data woke me with kisses and coffee.

"No… tired," I grumbled.

"I am sorry to hear that," Data said. "Nevertheless, if we are to launch the _Calypso_ on time, you must get up now. Drink your coffee while I shower, and then it will be your turn for the bathroom."

"Why did I have to fall in love with a morning person?" I grumbled.

"You did not," he countered. "You fell in love with an android who is equally 'bright-eyed and bushy-tailed' at all hours."

"Your tail's smooth and gold, not bushy," I teased. But he had already closed the bathroom door.

I sipped my coffee, confirmed that the clothes I'd planned to wear on our first day of travel were ready and waiting, and replicated a small dish of fruit and yogurt. I didn't really like eating so early in the morning, but I didn't want to leave without _something_ in my stomach.

When Data finished in the bathroom, I darted in, took a quick shower, and completed my morning routine in record time. I'd been dreading leaving the ship – even though I'd have almost a month of alone time with my partner before I reported to school – but now that we were about to leave, I wanted to be _gone_ already.

Data was packing the last few things into his flight bag when I returned to the main room of our quarters, but I froze when I realized which drawer he was opening. The bottom drawer of his desk was where he locked his phaser whenever he returned from an away mission, and where it remained most of the time. He'd always been careful to store it before he even greeted me, so I'd never seen him with it in his hand before.

"Is that really necessary?" I asked.

"It is my hope that it will not be," he answered calmly. "However, I would be remiss in not bringing it. Should we run into trouble at any point on our vacation, I wish to be able to protect you."

I sucked in one cleansing breath, and then another. "I'm sorry," I said. "I'm just… I've never seen you with a weapon in your hand. For that matter, I've never seen Mom with her phaser, either."

"I will endeavor to keep it out of your sight," he stated.

"No. It's okay. I know it's part of your job. I know that space isn't entirely safe. I'm just a little squeamish. I'll get over it."

"Very well," He closed his flight bag after ensuring the phaser was stowed safely. "Are you ready to leave?" He left his chair, slung the flight bag across one shoulder, and picked up Spot's carrier.

I took a last look around our quarters, squared my shoulders, and smiled. "Yes," I said. "I'm ready."

Hand in hand, we made our way to the turbolift that would take us to the _Calypso._

By zero-six thirty hours, we were ready to launch. I listened to Data as he communicated with the flight deck on the _Enterprise_ , but mostly I was just staring at the viewscreen.

"Zoe," Data asked, once we were clear of the silvery starship, "are you alright?"

I turned my head and favored him with a warm smile. "I'm fine, love. Next stop, Terlina III."

* * *

 **Notes:** This chapter opens with "Birthright, Part I," and references (obliquely) "Face of the Enemy." "Tapestry" did not occur in the actual timeline, so it is not included in this story at all. Since Data has no actual lines in "Birthright, Part II," I've allowed him to leave the ship with Zoe. Some dialogue is modified from scenes in "Birthright, Part I" as I couldn't exclude Zoe from such a pivotal sequence of events. Data and Zoe first share vegetarian moussaka in chapter five ("Bittersweet") of _Crush II: Ostinato._ Zoe met Commander Rose McInerny in chapter one ("Prelude") of _Unaccompanied: A Suite for Actress and Android._ Special thanks to **Javanyet** for naming the _Morning Star._


	14. Transition - Part I

**Transition – Part I**

 **Stardate 46591.30**

 **(Monday, 4 August 2369, 19:53 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

The image of the green and blue planet on the viewscreen was getting larger and larger. I'd long-since stopped asking Data if we were there yet. After the third time I'd asked for a status update he'd given me a 'tour' of the control boards for our borrowed yacht and given the countdown timer special emphasis. It was enough to convince me that the next emotion he manifested might just be annoyance, although, knowing him, he'd probably just call it a condition.

The countdown clock was almost to zero. I glanced at Data, watching his concentration as he entered new commands into the computer. "Zoe, please ensure that you are strapped in. We have entered orbit and will be descending through the atmosphere."

I knew we'd gone through much the same process in the runabout we'd used to get here the previous year, but then I had been in the back, while Geordi had been in the cockpit with my partner. This time, it was only us.

And it would _be_ only us for two weeks.

Well, us, and Spot, and the phaser in Data's flight bag. I don't know why that was still stuck in my mind. I wondered if he'd had it with him on Winter, or on Centaurus, or even on that first field trip with my classmates – the one to Serenity V. Then again, I hadn't missed the weapons display on my tour of the controls. Unlike the small ships we typically used, the _Calypso_

"I'm good," I said, noticing that he'd also engaged the safety straps. "Are you expecting a rough landing?"

"Not as such, but there is considerable cloud cover and the descent may be turbulent."

"How come we never strap in when descending in a shuttle or runabout?"

"Attitude stabilizers in utility vehicles are designed for repeated ascent and descent. In a vessel such as this yacht, that _can_ land, but typically does not, strapping in during atmospheric flight is advisable."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome, Zoe."

"Did you ask to borrow the yacht because it has weapons and you knew Lore had sent me that stupid bird?"

"I did not ask."

"Captain Picard offered? Really?"

"He did. Really."

"But the reason?"

"Access to a weapons system may have been a factor in his decision. More, the _Calypso_ has more sophisticated warp engines and can sustain greater speeds, thus maximizing our time here."

We'd been descending as we talked, and in a moment that felt almost scripted, Data set the yacht down in the clearing near the house just has he uttered the final word. According to the chronometer on the controls, it was not quite twenty-hundred hours, but the light beyond the yacht said it was mid-afternoon.

"What's the time difference between local time and _Calypso_ time?"

"Roughly six hours earlier. It is not quite fourteen-hundred hours, local time. Shall we disembark, Zoe? We are… home."

"I _really_ hadn't meant that in a presumptuous way…"

"And as we discussed, there was nothing inaccurate or presumptuous in your description. The _Enterprise_ is our home. Your space at Yale will, in a sense, be our home, and this place is also our home, for the next two weeks at least, and beyond that if you truly wish it. Do you?"

"How can you do that? How can you just ask weighty questions like that with no preparation?" He unstrapped his safety belt, and I did the same, but neither of us left our seats. I could tell he wanted a real answer. I took a breath. "There's no good answer to that, Data. In my head, I think about it… living blissfully off-grid whenever you can take time away from missions, and I can leave whatever I might be doing… but it's not practical, and it's just a fantasy, and it's too soon. And… and you introduced me as your _lifemate_." My attempt at the Hamalki word was not as accurate as his would have been.

"You are referring to when we were in engineering with Dr. Bashir."

"Yes."

"You object that I did not refer to you merely as my girlfriend?"

"Kind of… I mean… yes."

His tone was neutral. "We share a home, Zoe. We share a monogamous romantic partnership. We are registered as domestic partners within Starfleet and are one another's legal next of kin. We have discussed marriage as a future goal, and further discussions have included the possibility of children. In approximately thirty-three days we will reach the second anniversary of being together as a couple. I am aware that you are in a period of personal transition and are not yet ready for a public statement of permanent commitment, but until that occurs I cannot think of a more appropriate word for what we are. Can you?"

I couldn't, and he knew it perfectly well, but labels had gone out of my head, because he'd been precise – as always – in his phrasing. "You said _I_ wasn't ready…"

"Am I incorrect?"

"I… no. But you implied… you _are?"_

"I am." Wide open yellow eyes held my gaze. "I will endeavor to give you the time you need, Zoe. For now, please understand that I am devoted to you, and I will wait."

I wasn't ready to respond to that. I'd told Deanna once that if Data ever asked me to marry him, I wouldn't be able to decline. I'd told _him_ much the same. Was it true? I took a deep breath and mentally tested the idea of being at school as Mrs. Data. Not that I'd change my name, but still.

I wasn't ready to have that question asked and answered. I wasn't interested in other options. I was just… not quite ready.

"Data… can we go ins – can we go _home_ , now?"

"Of course."

 **(=A=)**

Data used the _Calypso_ 's transporter to send our luggage inside, and then we made our own exit – on foot – from the ship. I started toward the laboratory door, which was the way we'd entered the house last time, but my partner stopped redirected me toward the main door, the one that opened into a foyer next to the room I'd first claimed as mine: the library.

The lights came up as soon the door was opened, and the house looked much as it had the previous year, except there were fresh flowers in vases: irises on the dining table, sunflowers on the low coffee table near the couch.

"You arranged the flowers?"

"Yes."

"Is there anything the caretakers can't provide?"

"Very few." He made sure the door was firmly closed, and then set down Spot's carrier.

"Is everything going to be all weird between us now?"

"No, but I think we should discuss your fears before we leave here."

"That's fair," I said. "Data… so much is changing, and I'm scared, but I still want all those things we talked about. I love you."

"I love you also. You have not eaten in several hours; do you wish to have a meal before or after we unpack?"

"After, that way everything's done."

"Very well. I am going to release Spot now."

"You might want to wait until we set up her litter box; she's been cooped up for a long time today, and she might need to pee."

"A valid point."

He disappeared into the guest bath and came back a moment later. "The caretakers have her litter box ready. Would you like to join me?"

I shook my head. "I think I'll leave you and Spot alone for a bit."

Data lifted the carrier and carried it to the bathroom, and I went to our room, where there were more flowers. I sat on the edge of the bed and kicked my shoes off and let myself just settle for a few minutes. Then I began to unpack. The footlocker holding my stuff for school and the clothing we'd earmarked for the wedding were still on the yacht, and would remain there, but everything else would be hung or put in drawers.

I wasn't entirely surprised that my partner didn't immediately come to help. I think he knew I needed space.

 **(=A=)**

I'd was half finished unpacking by the time Data re-joined me. Wordlessly, he began hanging the things I'd set aside, while I finished filling the dresser. On the _Enterprise_ we had separate sets of drawers. The bedroom on Terlina required that we share space. I smiled as I arranged his socks and underwear in one drawer, my bras and panties in another. There was something intimate in handling each other's clothing… something I hadn't realized _could_ be intimate until I'd experienced it.

In just a few minutes, we were finished, and I sat down on the end of the bed. Data came to sit next to me and put his arm around me. I relaxed into his body. "Is Spot settling okay?"

"She has relieved herself and is now exploring the house. I have kept the door to the lab closed."

"Wise plan." I let my hand drop to his thigh. "I'm glad we came here. I'm looking forward to exploring starting tomorrow, and I agree, we have some things to talk through, but can we table that until tomorrow, as well?"

"And today?"

"I'm hungry enough to eat, I think, and then maybe we could take a walk around the lagoon?"

"I believe that also qualifies as a 'wise plan,'" Data said.

"The flowers were a nice touch," I said as we both left the bed.

"You are going to insist that they were not necessary."

"They weren't. They're not."

"I disagree." He turned on the lights in the kitchen and chose something from the selection of prepared meals in the fresher. "Is eggplant parmesan acceptable, or would you prefer something lighter?"

"Add a salad to it, if there are any… or do I need to replicate that?"

"You do not. I will heat our main dish and deactivate the stasis container on the salad, if you will set the table."

"Deal," I said, and went to collect silverware and plates. "So, why are the flowers necessary."

"If this house is to be a potential home, we must live here as we do on the _Enterprise._ The flowers we have on our table there are one of the 'little things' I can do to remind you that your presence is a part of our home."

I cocked my head, thinking about his words. "The way we agreed that when you were with me in San Francisco or on tour, or on Winter, that it wasn't vacation, because I was working."

"Yes."

"And when I come home from school, it also won't be vacation, because _you'll_ be working."

"That is correct."

"Everything is changing, but at the same time, nothing is changing."

"I would not phrase it quite that way, but you are essentially correct." I filled two glasses with chilled water and he brought our food to the table and served it. "You did not wish to have wine?"

"Not if we're going to walk by the lagoon, no."

"Ah."

I grinned. "Why does that rate an 'ah?'"

"It is likely that you wish do to more than merely walking."

I laughed. "Maybe. Maybe not. I _do_ want to know if it's safe to swim in, but that doesn't have to be today."

We finished our meal and made sure Spot was offered food – she declined to eat it - and then we stepped outside. I'd taken off my shoes and socks back in the bedroom, and I reveled in the feeling of grass and then sand on my bare feet.

Early evening sunlight was casting shadows across the ground between the house and the water's edge, and a light breeze was causing the nearby trees to rustle. Data reached for my hand, and I slid mine into his grip. We started walking along the beach, counter-clockwise.

"Can I ask you a question?" I didn't normally start conversations that way, but in that moment, it was a good preface, and it gave me time to choose the words I really wanted to say.

"Of course, Zoe; always."

"After Dr. Soong… after your father died… what happened to the body? Do you have long-lost human relatives somewhere? Did you just obliterate him?" I hesitated. "I'm sorry, it's really not my business, I know, but…"

"But it was his house, and you wish to know he is 'resting well?"" Data asked.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

"Geordi and Commander Riker assisted me in digging a grave, and we buried his remains in it."

"Oh."

"Does that disturb you?"

I thought about it for a moment. "No, not really. Does it disturb you that I'm so drawn to this house? I mean… it's your property, but it's the place your father came without you, and…"

"And it is also the first place where I felt love for you."

"But that wasn't real…"

"Was it not? It is true the… feeling… was generated by a subroutine, but so is my respiration, and that is not merely an affectation. It was not what I expected but I have had time to consider, and what I am able to express to you now is not far removed from that moment."

"Would you be able to speak those words now if you hadn't then?"

"I do not know." I turned my head to look at him, my movement sharp, startled. "I am evolving, Zoe. Growing. Just as you are. Our relationship has served as a catalyst. Where before I would have stated that I was incapable of being bothered or distressed, that is no longer the case. I do not perceive these conditions as strongly as you seem to feel any of your feelings, but I recognize that there is a component to my perceptions that was not 'there' before and is present now."

I let his words sit with me for a moment. "Should I worry about you going into cascade failure?"

Data stopped walking. "You believe I will suffer the same fate as Lal."

" _Believe_ isn't quite the right word. I _worry._ Geordi said it wouldn't happen to you, that your neural net is more developed and therefore more stable… and I know what Whiskers said in his presentation – that you can't just _program_ a neural net, that it must grow just like an organic brain. But… and maybe it's because I have only the most rudimentary understanding of how you truly function… I worry."

"My neural net is in no danger of failing, Zoe. The changes that have manifested so far have been slow developments."

"Will you promise that if the danger of cascade failure ever becomes real, you'll warn me?"

"It will not happen."

" _Data…_ " I made his name a warning.

"I promise," he said.

We resumed walking. "You never answered my original question."

"About the house," he said.

"Yes."

"I am pleased that you are comfortable here. When we came here together last year, I had hoped the changes I asked the caretakers to make to the master bedroom would be enough to make you feel at home. It was only after you suggested I keep it as a getaway that I began to consider it as a possible home for us."

"We'd have to remodel it to accommodate children or guests." It was skipping a step, I knew, to play this game, to plan for a future I wanted but hadn't precisely agreed to, yet.

"Perhaps a series of cottages along the beach."

"Cottages?"

"I find that I am unwilling to give up our privacy."

The wind changed directions and I paused to watch the ripples on the water. Data released my hand and moved to stand behind me, sliding his hands around my sides and clasping them below my breasts. He'd held me that way before, at my mother's wedding. I'd thought it was intimate then. On the shore of the lagoon on the jungle planet he technically owned, it was more than intimate it was…

"Data!" His thumbs had found my nipples and were rubbing circles around them through my shirt and bra.

His voice was right by my left ear. "I am experiencing desire, Zoe. I am envisioning the way your bare skin would look in the mixed illumination of the setting sun and rising moon." The motion of his thumbs ceased. "Am I being too forward?"

I closed my eyes against his question. Then I covered his hands with mine and pressed them against my breasts. "Not too forward." I leaned back against his chest, trusting that he would support my weight. "More, please?"

"As you wish." I could tell from his voice that his lips had quirked upward when he said it. He touched his lips to my neck and nibbled gently. I shivered in response. "God…"

I expected him to respond with his usual line about only being himself, but he surprised me by countering with "Goddess." And then, after more attention was paid to my neck and my breasts, "May I undress you, Zoe?"

I hesitated. I didn't want him to think I was rejecting _him,_ but sex on the beach tends to end up with sand in _really_ uncomfortable places. On the other hand, removing sand from those places could be another kind of fun. And it was still rare for Data to be the one who initiated sex. "Please do."

Data turned me in his embrace, but he removed his uniform jacket – he always wore his uniform during travel – and spread it on the ground before unfastening my shirt, and then my bra. The evening air was warm, but I was trembling slightly, even so. Anticipation did that to me sometimes.

I wasn't sure if my partner had planned this, or if he was truly responding to the desire he'd begun experiencing a few months before, but either way, I didn't want to miss a second of time with him.

Data's hands cupped my breasts, and his thumbs returned to my nipples again, the combination of his touch and the soft breeze making them stiffen. I breathed out a sigh and reached for him., as much because I could never _not_ touch him, as because my knees were a bit wobbly. "Wait," he said softly, pulling off the t-shirt that went beneath his jacket.

I didn't know how I looked to him in the deepening twilight, but Data was beautiful, gold skin almost luminescent in the waning light. My breath caught.

"Are you alright?" He was always so aware of my reactions.

"Yeah, just… yeah…" I flattened my hands against his chest, centering myself. "Don't stop."

"I am not." Our shirts and my bra were dropped on the ground. "Step back, please?" I moved so I was standing on our discarded clothing. "One step further."

"Okay…"

Data removed his hands from my breasts, stepped out of his boots, and skinned off his trousers and underwear. For a moment, I just stared at him, but then he moved closer to me. "You have complained that 'sex on the beach' is never as attractive as it seems in video entertainment. Will you trust me to minimize the amount of sand you will have to encounter?"

I chuckled softly, more at his phrasing than at his intended query. "I trust you, Data. In everything. And we _do_ have a bathtub."

He dropped to his knees in front of me and rested his head against my belly. The jeans I was wearing had a low waistband and he dipped his tongue into my navel and teased as he released the snap and pulled down the zipper to pull the rest of my clothing off. I braced my hands on his shoulders as I stepped out of the jeans and my underwear and let him guide me down to the spread-out clothing.

"My Zoe…" he breathed. "You are beautiful."

Both on our knees, we pressed close to each other. Our lips met, and our tongues, in kiss after searing kiss. At some point, Data lifted me, and guided me into a new position, where I was straddling him while he was kneeling, not upright, like before, but on his haunches. With any other partner, I'd have had to use one hand to help balance, but he'd demonstrated before how android strength could be used during sex, and this was another such demonstration.

He held me upright, sucking at my breasts, pulling all sorts of pleasure sounds from me. And then he was cradling me, supporting my back and shoulders while we joined. His release came shortly after mine, and it's a good thing we _were_ alone, because I shouted my climax to the setting sun and rising moon.

Afterward, sitting on the pile of clothing, my back to his chest, his arms around me, his legs outside mine, we lingered for a while, not wanting to break the spell.

The soft sounds of the wind and the water, and the pleasant tiredness of my body made me drowsy enough that I would happily have slept in his arms all night, but the call of nature roused me. "We should go in," I said. "This was lovely, and I don't want it to end, but…"

"Your bladder requires it?" he finished the sentence for me, making it a wry question. "Do not be embarrassed by your physical needs, Zoe."

"Says the man who still won't talk to me if I'm on the toilet."

"That is… different."

I rolled my eyes at him, but I was only teasing. "Can I have your t-shirt? I'm too sweaty for my own clothes; they fit too closely."

"Of course."

We returned to the house, not rushing, but with more purpose than we'd had when we had begun our walk. Inside, I made a beeline for the bathroom, while Data hovered just outside.

"I'm all mixed up, time-wise," I confessed to him after I emerged once more. "It was afternoon when we got here, but our meal was technically dinner, and now night has fallen – and I'm tired, and a bit disoriented. Is this what space lag feels like?" I took a beat. "I'm totally asking the wrong person, aren't I?"

"I cannot experience temporal dysphoria," he confirmed. "However, the description of your own perceptions is not dissimilar from other such accounts. The best treatment is typically to do something relaxing and then 'call it an early night.'"

I smiled. "So, if I tell you all I can handle tonight is a bath, a book, and bed, you're okay with that?"

"Of course, Zoe."

"You could join me for the bath part," I flirted, expecting him to decline.

"Another night, I would like to share your bath with you. For tonight, I believe it would be more beneficial to leave you to soak in piece."

"Well, if you want to shower first, I'll give you your space…"

"There is no need." As in our quarters on the ship the bathtub and shower were separate units. "Fill your tub, dearest, and I will shower while you are in the bath."

He was finished long before I was ready to drain my bath. He leaned down to kiss me after he was dressed again, in civilian clothes. "We need to get you some sweats or lounge pants," I observed. "Are you going to the workroom?"

"For a few hours. If you decide you want tea before you retire for the evening, let me know, and I will join you."

"Thanks, I'll do that."

Data left our room and I soaked for another twenty minutes before deciding I was done with my bath. I changed to one of his long-since-appropriated Starfleet Academy t-shirts, noting that it was starting to fade. Maybe I could snag some of his basic black uniform tees. They, too, began to fade over time, and I liked the way faded black looked against my own skin… I wondered if my partner would find it aesthetically pleasing. I knew he liked it when I 'stole' his clothes.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46595.84**

 **(Wednesday, 6 August 2369, 11:34 AM, local time)**

 **Terlina III**

Monday afternoon and Tuesday had been spent mostly in and around the house, but by Wednesday I was stir-crazy, even though the lagoon – it was definitely a lagoon, rather than a lake, with salt water, and a slight current – had been deemed swimmable, and I'd taken advantage of it twice on Tuesday and once at dawn. Starting the day with a swim was a luxury I hadn't had since my last visit to Centaurus, and I was grateful to reclaim my mermaid tail, as it were.

Data, of course, declined to join me, but I could tell he was considering bringing his easel out to the patio, as he had in his dream. It was only a matter of time before he caved. Natural light was something no artist would miss out on, after all.

While we could have used the yacht to map the entire planet, the amount of tree cover made it a challenge, even for someone with my partner's skills. We knew the lagoon connected to an ocean on the opposite side of the ridge – really a barrier island – that blocked access to open water, and another day (I was promised) we would explore in that direction, but Data had set the day's plan based on a note in Dr. Soong's papers, and he'd asked me to accept a surprise.

He'd packed water, a lunch, and a few other things I hadn't bothered to identify – likely a first-aid kit – into a pack and suggested I wear layered clothing that covered as much of my skin as possible. "I do not believe the plants here are toxic, but a scratch could still be extremely irritating," he pointed out.

So, I'd worn jeans and boots – proper hiking boots, not my purple combat boots – and a cotton shirt over a tank top, twisted my hair into a single braid, grabbed a pair of sunglasses, and let him lead our expedition.

"Okay, there's a problem with hiking in undeveloped jungles that they don't show on vids," I grumbled about three hours into our trek.

"What is that?" Data asked. He'd been patient with me, choosing our direction, but allowing me to set our pace, and I'd tried to trust that there was some sort of destination in mind.

"Well, you've been reminding me to drink water…" I began.

"Staying hydrated is important when engaging in physical activity," he responded.

"Yes, but all that water has to… go… somewhere."

"Zoe?"

"I have to pee."

"Ah."

"Is it going to freak you out if we pause a moment, so I can pick a tree?"

"I do not 'freak out,'" he reminded me, sounding ever-so-slightly miffed that I might suggest such a thing. He indicated a tree with a large trunk. "I would suggest that one."

"Are you _sure_ I don't have to worry about snakes or rats?"

"I am certain, but if you wish, I will 'humor you' and scan the immediate area."

"Do that."

The nice thing about Data was that even when I totally deserved it, he would never roll his eyes at me.

"It is clear. I will wait three meters in that direction." He gestured in the direction he meant, and I had to laugh. "What is funny?" he asked.

"You are. Even in the middle of jungle, you're still a prude." I stepped behind the tree. "And I love you for it."

When you grow up at the beach you become accustomed to things like having your friends shield you with a towel while you change in the middle of a parking lot or take a leak in the sand dunes when you can't hold it any more and don't want to trek two or three kilometers back to the public restrooms. Translation: I wasn't squeamish or fussy about using that tree as my own port-a-potty, and I knew how to do so without being messy. A couple of minutes after Data had walked away, I caught up with him.

"Didja miss me?" I teased.

He chose not to answer my question. Instead he pointed slightly northeast (I think) and said, "We are approximately forty minutes from our destination."

"So, there _is_ an actual destination?"

"As I said, I have a surprise planned. I believe you will enjoy it."

"Is this the part where you tell me if I keep being snotty you're going to make me carry that pack on the way home?"

"No. It is the part where I observe that for a civilian who is unused to long hikes you are keeping up well, and I recognize that any grumbling you have done has been for comedic effect."

"I'll stop if you like. We could just talk instead."

"You do not have to change your mode of interaction to please me, Zoe."

"It's not changing to please you, Data; it's adapting. You adapt for me, don't you?"

"At times," he admitted. "But I do not mind."

"But _I_ do. It's part of being in a relationship, Data. And it's unfair for you to be the only one doing it. So, if I get too snarky, you could just ask me to tone it down."

"I enjoy your snark. Your use of language is refreshing and unique."

I grinned at his back. "Well, when it comes to 'refreshing and unique' you're not so bad yourself. Monday evening on the beach was…" I softened my tone a little. "You don't initiate very often. Sex, I mean. You've never turned me down when I've wanted to, but even before you started feeling actual desire, it was rare for you to be the one to start."

He froze in his tracks. "I am never certain whether I am being too… "

I moved so I was beside him instead of behind and slipped my hand into his. "I like it when you do," I said, interrupting him. "I used to worry that you only participated in sex because you know I enjoy it."

"That has never been the only reason, Zoe."

"I know. I've known that for a while. And _you_ should know that while I like sex with you, I don't expect it; it's not a requirement of our relationship. I don't think… we never really talked about that. Or about being exclusive. We just… we seem to fit so well, that maybe we didn't clarify things we should have."

I'm not sure what I expected him to say. When he did respond he surprised me. "I do not initiate our sexual intimacy because I do not want you to ever feel forced or coerced. You may be aware of how to deactivate me, but I would not allow it if I knew you were attempting it, and there is literally no way you could overpower me."

I squeezed his hand. "I forget sometimes," I said, noticing that he was moving vines out of the way as we walked, holding them so they wouldn't hit me.

"Forget what?"

"That you have to actually think about it… how much force you can thrust which when we make love, how much pressure you can use when you tweak my nipples or kiss me." I looked down at our clasped hands. "Or even just hold my hand. I mean. You don't let it show. You probably have a gazillion other things taking equal space in your brain. I mean… I forget you _have_ to."

"It is not quite a gazillion things, Zoe. There is a limit to how much I can do at one time without sacrificing the integrity of my processing, and please be assured that when we are together, you are always at the forefront of -" He stopped, because I was laughing. "I do not understand what is funny."

" _Data…_ Do you really think you're the only one who has other stuff going on in their head? Really? I mean… you have _more_ going on, and it's probably a lot more sophisticated, but trust me, most humans have other thoughts buzzing in the back of our heads, too. Like, I need to remember to confirm my orientation assignment, and my dorm assignment should be available in a week, and I can't wait for you to see me in the dress I bought for Bruce's wedding…" I changed my tone, "But I also can't wait for you to see me _out_ of the dress."

"Then, it does not offend you?"

"When we're having sex, am I in a position of priority?"

"Of course, Zoe."

"And, if I ever needed you to stop doing something and give me more attention, you would, right?"

"Of course."

"And, back to sex, if I didn't like something you were doing, or truly wasn't in the mood, you'd respect that, right?"

"Of course, but…"

"No, let me finish. Look. Consent is important, and it goes both ways, but Data, I love you. And I trust you. And I love it when we're physically – sexually – intimate, just like I love it when we're just sitting on the couch together, or I'm on the couch and you're working. It's all… It's all just _us._ Though, I do seem to recall giving you _carte blanche_. So, please don't worry about me feeling forced because when it comes to me and you, I don't think that's possible. But… I do have another question."

He pulled more vines out of our path, "Please. Ask."

"Is it… I don't know how to ask this without being awkward. Is your concern that I not feel forced the reason you have to consciously trigger your orgasms? Is it related to why, after all this time, you always ask to be sure I _want_ intercourse?"

"No."

I stopped walking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Yes, you should. We have established that you have both a need and a right to understand how I function, Zoe. I am simply unaccustomed to answering such frank questions."

"I could wait until we're home?" I offered lamely.

"That is not necessary."

"Well, as long as the response doesn't involve you removing your penis and showing me the servos inside, nothing about this will squick me, so…" I realized I was snarking again and made an effort to change my tone. "… I'd really like to know. I mean… assuming _you_ know. You didn't know you could dream until you did it. It's pretty obvious that Dr. Soong didn't have the forethought to include a ReadMe file among your programming with information on… stuff."

"Unfortunately, I have no such resource, though I confess, there are times I wish I had." We continued on our way. "I ask you before intercourse because that _is_ a compulsion of my programming, though there was room for some modification."

"Like, sometimes you ask nonverbally."

"Yes."

"And sometimes you accept my nonverbal answers."

"That is also correct."

"And the other… the triggering. Is that also a compulsion?"

"It is."

"And you don't know the cau - " I stopped speaking and dropped his hand. Because I knew. I _knew_. And it was awful. "Data, Lore was constructed before you, right?"

"That is correct. At some point he was deemed to be unstable and our father deactivated, and subsequently dismantled him, until the _Enterprise_ found him, and I had him reassembled."

"I think I'm going to be sick."

Data let the vine he was holding hit him in the face. Then he turned toward me, alarm evident in every line of his face and body. "Zoe? Did you encounter something? Have I misidentified something toxic?" He whipped out his tricorder before I could stop him.

"No!" I said, a bit more emphatically than I meant to. "No," I repeated trying to keep my tone calm. "It's not that kind of sick." I indicated that we should begin walking again, and he complied. After a few minutes, I began again. "Data… when we… when we start to get amorous, do you have to…" I had to know if he had to consciously get hard, but I didn't want to ask so coarsely. "Do you have to trigger your erections… do you have to know I'm willing before that happens?"

"Yes," he said, and I could almost see the gears spinning inside his head, as he began to put together, methodically (albeit at android speed) what I had intuited. "I do not understand, Zoe… " and then his face changed, and I could see that he'd connected the dots, too.

"The compulsions in my programming are to prevent me from being able to commit rape," he stated flatly.

"Lore… Lore didn't have any problem raping me. I mean… I saw it shatter him when Phil shattered but…"

"But the fact that he never required permission means that he was not designed with the same… failsafes."

"But _you_ were, Data Which means I wasn't the first. Which means Dr. Soong _knew_. He _knew_ what Lore was truly capable of." I couldn't help it: my stomach was heaving. I leaned over and retched into the greenery we'd been walking through. "I'm sorry," I said, wiping my mouth on my sleeve."

My partner handed me the container of water I'd been sipping from all day. I took a swig, swished it around and spit it out. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Tell me I'm wrong?" I asked him. I wasn't pleading. Not _quite_.

But his eyes were doing the birdlike flicker - the one I saw less and less frequently – that meant he was conducting an internal search for information. Quietly, he said. "I do not believe you are incorrect."

"If you want to skip the picnic…"

"That will not be necessary, Zoe. In any case we have arrived. Look."

He turned slightly left, and I saw that we were just a few meters away from a broad, flat, rock overlooking a body of water that screamed 'swimming hole' to me. Half the rock was in sunshine; the other half shaded by a tall tree, with several vines hanging from its branches.

"This? You wanted me to see this?"

"Yes."

"This is _awesome._ "

"I hoped it would please you. Are you ready for lunch?"

Despite my earlier nausea, I realized I _was_ hungry. "Even if I wasn't, I wouldn't miss the opportunity to see you sit on the ground."

"I have done so before."

"Not while I was around. On Centaurus, you had a beach chair. When we do outdoor stuff on the holodeck, there are typically benches."

"Have you forgotten our date to the concert in the park?"

"I'm not sure a holodeck picnic counts," I hedged. "And even if it does, it's sunny. I love seeing you in actual sunshine. I could do without the humidity, but, it's a jungle. Jungles are supposed to be hot and sticky."

While I'd been talking, Data had been removing things from his pack: a blanket, another container of water, containers that held food and packets of utensils. He spread the blanket under the tree and arranged the food, then invited me to join him. As always, he was just a little bit stiff when lowering himself to the ground, but once seated, he seemed completely at ease, if the sight of him lounging under a tree was slightly incongruous.

I took off the long-sleeved shirt I'd been wearing over my tank and stretched in the sunshine before joining him. I noticed a couple of local insects crawling along a fissure in the rock's surface, but I had already been assured they were harmless.

 **(=A=)**

"Okay," I told him, after a few bites of the pasta salad Data had packed for our lunch, "It's official. I'm skipping school and staying here forever."

"That is an intriguing notion," he responded, discerning that I wasn't serious. "However, if I were to stay with you, I would be AWOL. And the likelihood of regular visits from me would be much higher if you were on Earth."

"There you go, being right again," I teased. But I knew what he was doing. He was trying to distract me from our earlier conversation. "Did Dr. Soong's diary happen to mention if the water here was swimmable?"

"The information I found was not a diary, Zoe. Only some maps and charts. And this place _was_ listed as a swimming hole."

I peered over the edge of our rock. "The cliff has obvious hand-holds for getting out of the water. And I've been cliff diving before, but I think there's a better way of getting down there. You wouldn't happen to have a knife, would you?"

"There is a utility knife in the pack, yes."

"My boyfriend the boy scout."

"I have been on scouting missions," Data responded. "But as you are aware, Zoe, I was never a boy." He paused, using the time to eat some of the sliced fruit he'd packed, and then to sip some of the water. "Why do you require a knife."

"Tree branch, vines, water… you do the math."

"You wish to swing into the water on a vine?"

"A rope would be more secure, but I'm guessing that wasn't on your packing list."

"Not this time, no. However, if the tensile strength of the vines is as great as it appears, you should be safe if I create your swing from them."

"Would you?" I smiled at him. "I mean, really, would you?"

"I _will_ , but only after you finish your lunch."

"You can be _such_ a mother hen," I said, but I found the cheese and crackers he'd included in the picnic and ate some to make him happy.

"And you love me for it," he said, using my line from earlier in the day.

"Damn straight."

I finished eating and lounged on the blanket while Data did as he'd promised and fashioned a Tarzan swing from the vines in the trees.

When he was done, I took off my boots and stripped off my jeans and tank top. I'd worn turquoise underwear that day, so at least it wouldn't be see-through after it got wet. Not that it mattered. I had bathing suits that covered less of me, and it wasn't like he didn't see me nude on a daily basis.

Thus prepared, I watched as Data tested the strength of the swing with his own weight. If it would hold him, it would be more than safe for me.

"Care to try it for real?" I asked him.

"Thank you, but no," he said. "I will remain here in case you have difficulties climbing back up."

"Spoilsport," I accused good-naturedly.

"I would say that I am being pragmatic," he corrected.

"The end result is the same. You, here, on dry land." I squinted my eyes at him. "This conversation isn't over," I said. "I'm missing something… or you're not telling me something." I took the vine-rope from his hands and climbed high enough into the tree that I'd have good swing. Then I launched into the air, letting go over the water.

Cold! It was cold. But after our hours-long trek through the jungle, it felt so good to be cool and wet. Once I was in the water, it was clear, and I could see to the bottom. It wasn't far – maybe six meters - with a mud floor. I waved to Data and gave him a thumbs-up signal, so he'd know I was okay, then dove.

I played in the water until I started to feel cold, which was about the same amount of time it took Data to approach the cliff edge and call down to ensure I was alright.

"I'm good!" I yelled back. The handholds I'd seen when I'd looked down the cliff from above were spaced for someone closer to Data's height than mine, but I managed to climb up, and arrive, panting, on the rock where my partner was waiting. "That was exhilarating," I said.

"Do you need to rest before we start back?"

"For a little while, if that's alright?" I noticed he'd cleaned up the remains of our picnic, except for the canteen of water, which he handed to me. I drank more than I probably should have and then sealed the container and set it aside. The blanket was still spread beneath the tree, but the angle of the sun had changed: more of it was out of the shade. I sprawled on it, enjoying the warmth of the sun.

I didn't feel tired, and I hadn't planned to fall asleep, but the next thing I was aware of was Data calling my name. "Zoe… we must start for home, or we will lose the light."

I sat up. "I'm so sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. Was I out long?"

"Less than thirty minutes," he said. "But the weather is turning, and I believe we should make haste back to the house."

I started pulling my clothes back on. "Okay. Give me a minute to put myself back together."

If our walk out to the rock and the swimming hole had been leisurely, the return trip was not. Data kept a pace that was just at my limit for comfortable walking, and we made it back to the house just as a squall hit. Torrential rain arrived within seconds of the door closing behind me.

"I think if we're going to spend more time here, we should invest in a couple of all-terrain vehicles for moving about."

"That may be a wise decision. I apologize for pushing you on the way home."

"You didn't, really. If I hadn't been able to keep up, I would have told you." I looked out the glass patio doors to the rainy evening beyond. "I'm going to shower and change. Would you mind starting a fire? I'm not cold, but it will keep the dampness away."

"Gladly."

 **(=A=)**

By the time I returned to the living room in a baggy t-shirt, sweat pants, and soft socks, the fire was burning pleasantly, and there was a pot of tea and a plate of nuts, olives, bread, and cheese waiting on the coffee table.

"Snacks. Perfect. Thank you." I brushed a kiss across Data's lips and he held me for a minute.

"It is my turn to shower and change," he said. "I will not be long, but please do not wait if you are hungry. Lunch was intentionally light."

"Just enough energy for the walk back. I feel so spoiled, Data. Thank you."

He kissed the top of my head and disappeared into the bedroom I'd just left. I curled up on the couch and was pleasantly surprised when Spot came out of hiding to join me. I gave her head fusses and let her have a tiny bit of cheese – we tried not to give her 'people food' very often – and she nestled herself in between me and the back of the couch.

My boyfriend returned within minutes, also dressed in casual civilian clothing, carrying a book. "If there is something else you would prefer tonight, please tell me. Otherwise, I would like to begin the second volume in the _Master and Commander_ series."

"I didn't even see you pack that!" I said. "Are you sure you don't mind reading it the way we did book one? I really enjoyed sharing the story that way."

"I, too, found the experience to be quite pleasant," he assured me. "Shall I begin?"

"Yes, please."

Data opened the book and began to read: "'At first dawn the swathes of rain drifting eastward across the Channel parted long enough to show that the chase had altered course. The _Charwell_ had been in her wake most of the night, running seven knots in spite of her foul bottom, and now they were not much above a mile and a half apart. The ship ahead was turning, turning…'"

As we had done with the first book, we took turns reading a page at a time, long into the rainy night. When I got hungry, we paused so I could replicate something a little more substantial than nuts and cheese, and when I was ready for bed Data marked the page where we'd stopped.

"Do you mind if I join you in a few hours?" he asked. "I would like to spend some time in the workroom."

I grinned. "Go do your super-secret android-y things. I know where to find you if I need you."

"It is not secret, Zoe. I only took a few of Dr. Soong's belongings back to the _Enterprise_ last year, and there is more to investigate." He paused, capturing my gaze and holding it. "Please understand that your access to the workroom is not restricted to 'if you need me.' You are welcome to explore at any time, should you choose to."

I made a wry face. "It's your space, Data…"

"No, dearest. It is _our_ space. As is the entire house. I may be the technical owner until our relationship evolves further, but you are not a guest here, and I do not wish you to feel as if any part of this world is off-limits to you."

I knew Data wasn't adding deeper meaning to his words, but I felt the impact of them nevertheless. I tried to imagine a future version of this house, with another bedroom or two added on, and a series of cottages along the shore of the lagoon. It felt cozy. It felt… right.

"Thank you," I said. "Don't worry about waking me when you come to bed. I mean… wake me if you want to…"

"I understand."

I went to bed, and Spot followed me rather than Data, which surprised me, but apparently the call of my loose hair was impossible for the orange tabby cat to resist.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46616.28**

 **(Wednesday, 13 August 2369, 10:40 PM, local time)**

 **Terlina III**

After a week and a half alone in the house I'd once referred to as "Dr. Soong's Jungle Hide-away," Data and I had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. On sunny days, we hiked as far as I was capable of going in whatever direction seemed interesting. Three times, we had to rush home in order to avoid squalls. Once we didn't make it, and we ended up taking cover beneath the wide leaves of a tall plant.

On days that started out rainy, we puttered around inside the house. I did a lot of recreational reading, sometimes hanging out with him in the workroom, sometimes in the library I'd claimed on our first visit to the house. We played music. Cello, violin, piano… Data finally began to teach me guitar. We had conversations about art and literature and my boyfriend told me about some of his more positive experiences at Starfleet Academy.

When the sun invariably broke through the clouds too late for a proper hike, I swam in the lagoon, while Data stayed in the workroom or painted. (He did bring the easel out to the patio.)

Some days I didn't really have proper meals, but snacked as the need arose, and other days, we ate together, at the table, with wine and candlelight.

Sex punctuated it all. We had been physically intimate before we were dating. Casual touching, holding hands, chaste kisses to the cheek, but once we'd truly become lovers, sexual intimacy had become another language with which to communicate. In a place where we were literally the only two people on the planet, we were communicating quite a lot.

In the evenings, between dinner and bedtime, we moved to the living room, either reading alternate pages of the book we'd begun, or playing endless rounds of _Tög_. At one point, I caught Data trying to let me win, and stopped him.

"Don't throw the game because you feel bad," I said.

He didn't argue about the feeling-bad part. Instead, he said, "I have observed that when people lose games too frequently, they become disinterested in playing. I am enjoying our evenings of gameplay, and I do not wish you to stop."

"I'm enjoying this, too," I said. "We don't often play games together. Well, we play word-games, I guess, but generally I play board games with my friends, and you play poker with yours. I bought this game because I enjoyed learning how to play when I was on Winter, and I thought the element of strategy would appeal to you. I knew I could never beat you. That's not why I play."

He looked perplexed, with his brow slightly furrowed. "If you know you will not win, how can you find it an enjoyable experience?"

"Well, first and foremost, we're spending time together."

"That is true. And it is also true that we do not typically engage in this sort of activity."

"There's more, though. I'm getting _closer_ to winning, every time we play. And I'm learning from watching _you_ play. But even aside from that… I like watching you. You have this expression that defies description when you're analyzing the board, and your hands – your fingers – watching you place the pieces is just dead _sexy."_

"I believe you are biased because we are lovers," he said. "No one else has ever commented on the way I use my fingers."

"Well, no one's commented on it _to you_ ," I pointed out. "I've heard stuff. There's an entire posse of ensigns who have crushes on you."

"While that notion is flattering, it is of no matter. I am a one-woman-android, and I have found my partner in you."

"So, you agree we're exclusive, then?" It was one of the many things we should have talked about months – _years_ \- before, and never had.

"Do you not?" Was that surprise that tinged his voice, or concern?

"We live together," I said, reminding him of the things he always called to my attention. "We've talked about marriage and children and making this house our home base. I wouldn't be doing that if I didn't believe we were exclusive, Data. I just…"

"You wished to have confirmation."

"Yeah, something like that. It's your move."

"The game can wait, Zoe. This conversation has waited long enough and should not be delayed further. If you wish, I will make tea and we can relocate to the couch."

"Tea and conversation: ritual number one," I quipped lightly. "How will I manage without them?" I asked as I moved to follow his suggestion. "Peppermint, please," I added as I pulled an afghan off the back of the couch. We hadn't lit a fire that night, and I was chilly.

It took longer to make tea at the house on Terlina III, because we didn't typically use the replicator for little things. Rather, we had to boil water and steep the tea ourselves. But longer, in this case, was only a few minutes, and honestly, the tea tasted better when it was made by hand.

Besides, the mugs at the house were curvy ceramic and fit perfectly into the palm of my hand.

Data brought the tray with the teapot and mugs and joined me on the couch. For a long moment, we were both quiet, but it was he who broke the silence. "When we were talking on the yacht, you were correct that there were facets of our relationship that were long overdue for clarification, but I did not believe exclusivity was one of them."

"It wasn't… I mean…" I took a breath and willed the tea to steep faster, so I'd have something to do with my hands. _Where was that damned cat when I needed her?_ "I don't want anyone else, Data, and I believe you when you tell what I mean to you. But… I've seen the way women look at you, Data. I saw it before we were anything close to a couple, and I see it more now. And it's not just on the ship. L'Mura was polite about it, and she genuinely likes me, but she was really disappointed that you were off the market."

"You are exaggerating."

"I'm _not_. God, do you really believe I'm the only woman who finds you attractive? You dated Jenna for – "

"Jenna did not find me attractive, Zoe; she found me _convenient_. And after you and I were together, she saw me as something unattainable. I am sorry that she and I are no longer friends, but I do not regret that our relationship did not work."

"But what if you meet someone _better_ , while I'm gone? Someone older, more poised, established in her career… Another scientist?"

"And what if you do?"

"What?"

"You are very young, Zoe, and while I cannot catalogue all the elements of a 'typical college experience,' it is my understanding that experimentation is a common factor. I am aware it is possible that you will meet someone closer to your own age, or who has aspirations for an artistic career, as you do."

"I don't want anyone else. God, Data… do you think I haven't had offers? All that time in San Francisco, all that time on tour… even on Winter… I get asked out all the time. And I always say no, because I love you. I've been in love with you since I was sixteen, and every day, that feeling only gets stronger. We talk about marriage and children, and what the future will be like for us, and I want it. I want that life with you. I want it so badly I can _taste it."_

"And yet you have stated you are not yet ready for our next step together." His cool rationality was like ice water. Or a knife. With warmth and gentleness, he asked, "Will you tell me why?"

"I _thought_ it was because I was afraid of the time we'll have to spend apart, but I'm not afraid of that anymore, because we've already done separation. We've mastered that etude. I know we'll write, and comm, and visit each other whenever we can. And I know it won't be the same, but it will make the missing and the longing… less."

"Then what is it?"

"I already said it. I worry you'll find someone… better. I'm not saying I think you'll go looking, but you weren't exactly looking for me, either."

"There is no chance of finding someone better, Zoe. As _I_ have stated, I have found my partner in you, the woman who touches me and teases me and may nudge me to alter my wardrobe, but never asks me to change who I am. You are… you are hard-wired into my neural net. There is no amount of code that could cause your erasure. You are part of me."

"I'm afraid of disappointing you," I confessed. "I'm afraid I'm going to school for the wrong reasons… that I'm doing it to prove I can succeed academically. I worry I'll be sacrificing my career for some misguided attempt to be your equal."

Data paused the conversation long enough to pour the tea that had finally steeped. Once I had a mug in my hand, he said in a quiet but firm voice. "You are already my equal."

"But I'm not. I'm too young and under-educated and too dependent."

"I disagree."

"And I don't want to hold you back… I don't want the fact that I can't hold up my end of the conversation at social functions hurt your career. I don't want your options to be limited because people see me as a vapid child-bride."

"You are not a child, Zoe. You have not been a child for many years, despite your youth. You have handled yourself ably in many situations, social and not, since we have been together. You charmed my colleagues when you met _them_ on Hamal IV, you have formed your own relationships with my friends and colleagues on the _Enterprise_ , and if you believe anything about our relationship is holding me back you are mistaken."

I breathed in the strong peppermint aroma of my tea, and let its essence filter through my body, and then I took a sip. The warming liquid was a balm of sorts. It calmed my mood and helped clarify my thoughts.

"You really don't see me as unequal?"

"I sincerely do not. We are different in many ways, Zoe, and that means we each bring our own strengths and weaknesses to this relationship."

"I don't hold you back?"

"You do not. In fact, our partnership has caused people to see me as both more reliable and more relatable."

"You mentioned the typical college experience, earlier, but Data… I closed the door on being a typical anything the moment we became a couple. Just like I closed to the door on being a typical high school student."

"In that, I do not disagree," he said. "But I do not believe you would be destined to lead a typical life even if we were _not_ together."

I nodded and sipped more tea. As much as I'd dreaded this conversation, it had helped. Data's point-by-point rebuttal of each of my worries had shown me where I had erred in my thinking, and I was already feeling more confident in our future together, when I realized there was one more thing: "You can't stay in a dorm." I blurted the words.

"As far as I am aware, Yale does not have rules about overnight guests. I have read the student handbook."

 _Of course_ , he'd read the handbook. "No, there are no rules, but, you're the second officer of the flagship. _You_ can't stay over in a dorm. It's all kinds of weird."

"Are there hotels in New Haven?"

"Of course, but… "

"Then I fail to see a problem. In any case, you are only required to reside in a dormitory for your first year. After that, we will look for an apartment that is acceptable to both of us. Zoe, I love you. I am devoted to you. I want your time at university to be a positive experience for you, but I believe you must accept that you are not merely Zoe Harris, student and actress, any longer. Rather, you are Zoe Lauren Harris, student, actress, musician, protocol intern, SOAR member, and lifemate of the only sentient android in Starfleet."

The Hamalki word is what finally got to me. The word, the man staring at me through warm yellow eyes, even the tea he'd made because he knew I needed it.

"The future that we treated as a distant goal… we're already living it aren't we?" I asked. "We're just… we were so committed so quickly – "

"Do you feel that we have moved too fast?"

"No. We've moved at the pace that was right for us. But my point is, we're already living our future – our present. Home is where you are, whether it's here or on the _Enterprise,_ or in some as-yet-unchosen apartment on Earth. We're already sharing a life and defining how that life will grow and change."

"Indubitably," he said, and the word made me smile.

"One semester," I said.

"Zoe?"

"I want you to give me one semester… I want time to find my footing. To prove to myself that I can handle school and not… not lose us. One semester to figure out how to be a student again and still be an adult. After that… after that I'll be ready."

"If that is truly the case, I will embrace it, Zoe. And if it is not, I will help you determine _why."_

Not for the first time, I asked, "What did I do to deserve you?

Data's lips curled slightly upward. "It is not about 'deserving,' my beloved. It is about fitting and belonging. We fit. We belong."

I stared at him for a long moment. Then I moved toward the center of the couch to cuddle him, and he did the same. I let the silence rest between us for a while, but something he'd said on our first night came to the front of my brain. "So," I asked nonchalantly. "Cottages?"

We spent the remaining time until bed planning the future expansion of our private paradise.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46625.34**

 **(Sunday, 17 August 2369, 6:03 AM, local time)**

 **Terlina III**

The sun was barely up, but the heat from the previous day hadn't broken overnight, and I'd woken up hot and sticky to find Data in the midst of using his dream program. He'd enabled it a few times during our stay, and we were still playing with parameters of how responsive he would be during his 'sleep' periods, though I think we'd reached a happy medium, where he was comfortable with the level of physical response he could give, and I didn't feel like I was sharing a bed with a corpse.

"Keep dreaming," I'd told him, as I extricated myself from his loose embrace. "I'm going for a swim." I'd kissed him on the forehead and left our bed, still wearing the t-shirt I'd gone to sleep in. I was so desperate to be submerged in cool water that while I grabbed a towel, I didn't bother changing to a bathing suit, just slid my feet into flip-flops and walked down to the shore.

I dropped the towel on the ground, stepped out of my shoes, peeled off the t-shirt, and entered the water naked. It was a little colder than I would have liked but being in my own element made me feel so light, so free, that I didn't care. Besides, there was something magical about cutting through the water, my arms and legs propelling me with sure strokes and long kicks. Swimming wasn't as intense as surfing, but it was still a natural high for me.

I looked at the ridge that formed the far end of the lagoon, the ridge that was really a large sandbar, and I wished for a surfboard. There was an ocean within walking distance, and I was ill-prepared for maximum fun.

I felt it – the sensation of being watched – rather than heard it when Data came out to the patio. I did a flip-turn under the water and resurfaced to swim toward shore. My partner had set up his easel on the beach, near where I'd left my clothes.

"Morning, sleepy-head!" I called, enjoying the rare opportunity to tease him. "Did you have good dreams?"

Data paused in his painting. "I dreamed I was the raven again. I landed on a branch with a white dove. I am not certain, but I suspect that was meant to be you."

"Better a dove than a pigeon, I guess," I observed. "Sorry for leaving you, but the water was calling."

"I am well aware that I have committed myself to a mermaid. Are you ready to trade your watery domain for dry land or would you prefer to continue swimming?"

"Depends. Do I get to see what you're painting?"

"When I am finished, of course."

I let my feet come to rest on the bottom of the lagoon. I was close enough to shore that the water was only waist deep, which meant Data got a clear view of me, topless, with water droplets drying on my skin.

"I did not realize you were nude."

"Skinny dipping first thing in the morning isn't something I get to do very often," I pointed out. "Actually, it's not something I get to do very often at any time of day. There's something really freeing about being in the water this way." I took a few steps backward into deeper water, and my breasts floated upward. "Well… that part's kind of annoying."

He tilted is head slightly. "Indeed." But after a beat he called my name, and added, "would you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Would you come closer again, and remove the elastic holding back your hair?"

Even when skinny dipping, I always pulled my hair back. I hated it being in my face. "Sure," I said. I pulled off the hair elastic and put it on my wrist for safe-keeping. Then I ran my fingers through my hair to break up the ponytail, going as far as ducking under the water and moving my head back and forth. Then I moved back toward shore. "How close do you want me to come?"

"Four more steps," Data said. That left the water hovering around my hips, which was fine, except that out of the water, in the morning breeze, I was getting chilly. "Yes…" Data said. "That is it."

"Have I mentioned lately that I'm really glad you don't need me to hold poses."

"You have not."

"Mmm. Remind me to do that, then. Am I free to move?"

"Yes, Zoe. Thank you."

I walked the rest of the way out of the water and wrapped myself in my towel. "I'm getting cold," I said, responding to Data's unasked question. "I'm going to shower and get dressed and figure out breakfast." I slipped my feet back into my shoes and picked up my cast-off t-shirt. "Can we skip the hike today and stay home?"

He was painting again, but he still answered my question. "Of course, Zoe, if that is what you wish. Is there a particular reason?"

"Only that it's our last Sunday here. Tomorrow, we pack. Tuesday, we leave. I really want a quiet day. I like just being at home with you. I know that sounds pathetic, but it's true, and it's the thing I'm going to miss most when I'm at school."

"I will miss our 'quiet days' as well," he said. "Go shower and change. You are shivering."

"I want to see those paintings the second they're done!" I told him. But I dashed back up to the house before he could answer.

 **(=A=)**

Data was still painting when I returned to the main section of the house, and I stood inside the glass doors for a few minutes just watching him. I loved it when he was focused on a project, the way every movement was purposeful. To me, though, his behavior when painting proved to me that he did have emotions of his own, because his face was expressive and reactive. When he was in his groove, the tiniest hint of a smile would play at the corners of his mouth, and when whatever he saw in his head wasn't translating to the canvas as he wished it to, his brows would furrow, and he would lower his chin.

I almost wanted a camera, so I could capture my own personal version of the Artist at Work.

I moved away from the doors, had the entertainment system play some cheerful music - a light jazz piece written for cello, piano, and flute – and went to the kitchen to put together breakfast: coffee, obviously, fruit, and a bagel with cream cheese, all from the stasis units rather than the replicator.

Idly, I wondered if the soil on Terlina III would support a kitchen garden. Terraformed worlds sometimes differed in chemistry, and then, the only pollinators were the introduced insects. There were no birds or bats, and even the ocean only held the smallest of micro-organisms.

I made a mental note to ask Data about it later and sat down at the big table in the dining area to eat and read.

So absorbed had I become in my book, that I didn't realize Data had finished his artwork, or that the morning light had shifted to early afternoon. It was only when I realized that my music had long-since ended that I stirred from my position, set my padd aside, and left the table. I wanted to go find Data immediately, but I made myself take care of my dishes, first.

Then I went to the place he was most likely to be: the workroom.

 **(=A=)**

He was standing on the upper level of the space, staring at the wall-sized display of his (well, I assumed they were his) schematics.

"Find what you're looking for?" I asked lightly.

"I believe so," he said. "I have been analyzing the circuits that are responsible for my ability to dream. It would seem that Dr. Soong's original design had required sleep periods built into the programming."

"Actual sleep?"

"Analogous to sleep," he corrected. "An enforced downtime meant to be used for diagnostic and repair protocols."

"Indexing your files," I teased, referring to something I'd said to a boy named Timothy who had latched onto Data after a traumatic experience.

"In a manner of speaking," he agreed.

"Is it weird for you, looking and specs and schematics the way we humans would look at med-scans? Seeing your own insides?"

"It is not weird, Zoe. It is simply a fact of what I am."

"When you've been in here… did you do any research into your sexuality programming?"

"You wish to know if I have found a way to override the need to trigger certain of my responses?"

"Well, yeah."

"I have not looked. I am comfortable with what I am, Zoe. I understand the reasoning for my father's programming decisions."

"Well, it makes me mad," I said. "The way your father compensated for Lore's instability and criminal behavior by crippling you."

"'Crippling' is an exaggeration."

"Is it, Data? Is it really? Lore's crazy so you don't get fully developed emotions. Lore's a rapist so you have restrictions placed on your own sexuality. I _understand_ it. I mean, from his point of view those changes to your programming were the responsible thing to do. But it seems to me that instead of altering code he might have tried actually being a parent to you. You deserved better."

"I tried to _be_ better with Lal," Data said softly. "I allowed her make her own mistakes and attempted to provide guidance."

I touched his shoulder, then slipped my arm around his waist. "I know. From everything I've heard, and all the video you showed me, you were an amazing father." Data wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head, nuzzling my hair for a moment. "I wish I'd met her. I wish I were older and done with college and ready to start a family with you. I wish…." I'd said all these things to Counselor Troi at various times, but I'd never been so explicit about them with him.

"I _know_ ," Data said, "that all of those things will come in time. There is no need to push, Zoe. I am ready for one step, but the others… I am not quite ready for those."

"Are you afraid the same thing will happen to another android child?" I didn't know how else to ask, but bluntly.

"I would not call it _fear_ , but I have that concern, yes. It would be wrong to bring another life into the world just to watch it die."

"Can I ask you something about Lal?"

"You may ask me anything, Zoe."

"This is… this is personal."

"Ask me."

"Okay… Counselor Troi said that you basically duplicated your own neural net when you created Lal. And your own basic programming. Is that correct?"

"Essentially, yes."

"I want you to understand… I'm not asking this because I think there's anything wrong with you, or because I want you to be any different than who you are. I mean, I think it's fantastic that you can tell me you love me. I think it's awesome that you can experience desire. But if neither of those things had ever happened, I would still be standing here, cuddled up to you. I just can't help but wonder: if Lal was a copy of you, and she developed emotions, doesn't that mean that you _already_ have emotions of your own?"

"I do not understand," Data said, and for the first time, I was certain he was being less than honest with me. Or maybe he was being less than honest with himself.

"I just… watching you paint earlier, you were so expressive, reacting to your own art. You weren't interacting with another person. There was no need to pretend – and don't tell me that you don't pretend sometimes. I _know_ you do. I know the difference between your real reactions and your 'I am doing this because it is polite and expected' reactions by now." I took a beat and reminded him, lightening my tone. "Insatiable curiosity is one of the things we have in common, _remember_?"

"You believe I have suppressed any inherent emotions I might have." He made it a statement.

"I believe it's a possibility. Look, we both know I'm no cyberneticist, and I only know psychology from being under the care of mental health professionals for years, but… I read stuff, and I pay attention, usually, and I know that – for example – kids who are told they're stupid or worthless start to act as if they are."

"Go on."

"I know you had a rough time at the Academy. I know you had to prove your own sentience just to get in. You _haven't_ told me a lot about the time between when the officers from the _Trieste_ found you on Omicron Theta and finally being accepted to Starfleet Academy, but I don't imagine that you were treated very well."

"For the first year and a half, I was treated as an object of curiosity and something to be experimented on. After I met Commander McInerny conditions improved somewhat, but I was not treated as a person, or, indeed, as a life form of any kind. It was very clear, in the beginning, that I was 'just a machine.'"

"Which isn't true," I said.

"Thank you, Zoe. It took me… it took time to develop enough confidence in myself, and in my programming, to demand better treatment."

"A lesser person would have given up."

"I nearly did," Data said.

"What?"

"More than once I considered de-activating myself. More than once I considered that life as a service 'droid might not be 'so bad.'"

"But something in you couldn't accept it, right?"

"That is correct."

"So, if you couldn't accept that you were just a _thing_ , why accept that you don't have emotions?"

"Perhaps because I had no one to model for me what android emotions might… feel like."

"I'm sorry, love. I'm really not trying to push."

"You are not. You are asking legitimate questions. I am simply unable to provide satisfying answers… for either of us. Perhaps continued dreaming will help me find those answers. Perhaps I needed the appropriate catalyst."

"You mean… me?"

"I mean our relationship, Zoe."

"Still…"

"Does it distress you to know that the growth of my neural net began accelerating when I met you, and increased again when our friendship turned to romance and then to a committed partnership?"

"Distress isn't really the right word," I said. _Breathe, Zoe. Breathe._ "It's just… I'm not sure I can handle that kind of responsibility. Geordi said the kind of cascade failure Lal experienced can't happen to you, but what if it does, Data? You're telling me it would be my fault."

"No. I am merely telling you what you already know: that our relationship has given me the 'space' to explore and analyze where programming and… feeling… intersect."

We were still holding each other, still standing in front of the wall-sized screen with his schematics. "Sometimes," I said, "it's easier not understanding. Sometimes, it's easier to just treat you as this really sexy guy who happens to have gold skin." I took a breath. "But just because it's easier doesn't mean it's right. You are who you are, and what you are, and I love all the parts that make you _you._ It just… sometimes I need a bit to catch up."

"When it comes to your varying emotional states, Zoe, I often need time to 'catch up,' as well."

I rested my head against his shoulder. "I guess we catch up together, and then help each other with the rest, then."

Data turned his head to nuzzle my hair, and then place a kiss on top of my head. "Indubitably."

 **(=A=)**

It wasn't until after dinner that night that I finally saw the finished artwork Data had done during my morning swim. The first, the one he'd started before I'd entirely realized he was outside with me, was of me floating on the surface of the water. He'd caught the sunlight on my breasts and obscured the fact that I wasn't wearing anything with well-placed shadow.

The second was the one I jokingly called "Aphrodite Rising," because it was the one of me stepping toward shore with the water just at my hips, and my hair loose.

"These are really good," I said, staring at them. On one level, it was weird to see myself painted nude, but on another level. "You really should show them. This isn't me being an exhibitionist. I'm comfortable in just skin when it's just _us_ , but…"

"I understand."

"But you won't show them. Why not? These aren't your usual 'processing' paintings. And it's not like you need them to remember the moment… you have it all in that marvelous brain of yours. Data these… These are deliberate art."

"If I were to show them on the ship, you would have to deal with members of the crew looking at you differently. If I were to show them elsewhere, it could be detrimental to your career."

I rolled my eyes at him. "It's not like they're centerfolds in a tits and ass 'zine, Data." I took a deep breath and changed tacks. "Why paint them at all?"

"Because while you are correct that I have the memories indelibly stored within my memory engrams, these are a tangible representation of the woman I love. These are an encapsulation of this trip, and our time spent here. And they will help me miss you… less."

"Like me with your uniform jacket and my hoard of t-shirts."

"Yes."

"You always manage to surprise me," I told him. "I wish I could surprise you, once in a while."

"You have," he said. "And you do. Often."

"Oh?"

"Yes."

I could have pressed for details, but I chose to kiss him instead.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46629.75**

 **(Monday, 18 August 2369, 8:37 PM local time)**

 **Terlina III**

Our last full day on Terlina III had begun with a violent thunderstorm. We didn't lose power as we had a year before during a similar storm, but the lightning was close enough that I could taste the ozone.

We had breakfast inside and watched the sky and water merge during the heaviest periods of rain, and after we finished our meal, we spend the rest of the morning packing. By mid-afternoon, the skies had cleared, and the humidity had dropped to a level that I was willing to cope with. I was about to suggest a last walk around the lagoon, but Data came to the kitchen while I was blending a protein shake for lunch.

"When you have finished your… beverage… would you come for a walk with me? There is something I would like to show you."

"Sure," I said. "Should I change to hiking gear?" I was wearing a tank top, shorts, and the kind of sandals that were appropriate for a slightly damp walk, but not for a proper trek through the jungle.

"That will be unnecessary," Data said. "We are not going far."

I drained my glass, put it in with the other dirty dishes (we'd run the recycler before bed) and went to use the bathroom before we left the house. When I returned, Data was waiting near the front door – the entrance we hadn't used since our arrival, and he was carrying a large boulder in a net bag.

"Where are we going?" I asked, "and what's with the rock."

"You will see."

Outside, Data captured my hand with his free one, and led me down a faint trail through the more manicured trees that surrounded the leeward side of the house. He was right; it _wasn't_ a long walk. After about fifteen minutes, our trail ended in a clearing where a section of the ground had been cleared, and part of the earth had trimmed grass. It took me a minute or two, but realization sunk in.

"This is your father's grave."

"Yes."

"Data, you didn't have to wait for our last day here to visit it."

"I did not, intentionally. It did not occur to me to come until our conversation, yesterday."

"Would you mind elaborating?"

"You said that the modifications my father made to my program crippled me. Your opinion is not invalid. From your perspective, it likely seems that way. But given time to consider your points, and the reality of my programming, I have decided that those modifications are also a gift. The requirement that I consciously trigger my erections and climaxes, Zoe, and cannot do either with a partner who is unwilling, does not only prevent me from committing rape. It prevents anyone from using me against my will. It is a guarantee that I will never be a…"

"… a walking dildo." I finished for him. "Sorry, that was crude."

"But not inaccurate."

"And the emotions?"

"I believe you may be correct that I possess emotions of my own. Since our discussion, I have theorized that I was not intended to 'discover' them until I my neural net was developed enough – stable enough – that cascade failure could not happen."

"And your catalyst theory?"

"I still believe that our relationship, Zoe, your acceptance of who and what I am, and your willingness to give me access to who and what _you_ are, are key factors in reaching this level of growth."

"So… is this your way of telling me you don't need me anymore?"

"I will always need you, Zoe, because you are not only the woman who taught me to love, but the woman I love with my entire being."

Tears filled my eyes. He'd said as much before, but the setting and the context made all the difference. "I love you, too, you know."

He lifted our clasped hands and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. "I know. More… I believe I truly understand." He released my hand. "I did not mark my father's grave when we buried him. And when we came last year, while I visited it, I came alone. It seems fitting to mark it now, while you are here."

He set the boulder down at the 'head of the grave, and for the first time, I realized that the stone was flat on top, and that Data was wearing his holster, with his phaser in it. "I thought you brought that for protection," I said.

"I did. However, it is also the best tool for my current purpose." He aimed the weapon at the boulder's smooth surface. "You may wish to stand back," he advised.

I moved away, and Data used the phaser to engrave the boulder with Dr. Soong's full name and the years of his birth and death. There was no room for any other inscription. There was no need for one, either.

I let Data spend a private moment, but before we left I found a stone of my own – a small one – and placed it on the headstone he'd created. It wasn't my faith tradition to do that, but there was a part of me that suspected Dr. Soong would have appreciated it.

Hand in hand, we walked back to the house.

 **(=A=)**

The rest of the day was quiet, but busy. We did laundry, we disposed of food leftovers that weren't worth returning to stasis. We packed – in fact Data packed everything but what we'd need the next day into the ship to save time in the morning.

Finally, we were finished. We shared quiche and a salad for dinner, and I went to take a bath.

I was just stepping into the tub when Data appeared in the bathroom, wearing a robe. "Would it be acceptable if I joined you this evening?" he asked.

"I'd love it," I told him. I got myself settled in the wide tub, and he stepped in behind me, lowering himself into the water with his legs outside mine. "I thought you were afraid of water," I said, as I leaned back against his chest.

"It is not fear, but caution."

"I'm sensing there's a story there."

Data reached for my bath sponge, dipping it into the water, squeezing it out several times in the water to ensure it would be warm and then squeezing it over my chest. "Two summers ago, while you were at your music program – "

"Before we were dating."

"That is correct. We visited a colony to check that everyone there was well, and that the colony's growth was on its projected track. While we were there, Geordi met a young woman, and the three of us went sailing on a local inland sea that the colonists had named Devala Lake."

"Sailing with Geordi and a woman he was into? Wasn't that all kinds of awkward."

"Many things about that trip were… awkward. During our sailing trip, Geordi and Lianna began to become… amorous."

"And since you were stuck on a sailboat, you couldn't really get out of the way?"

"Precisely." He drizzled more warm water over the parts of me that were exposed to the air and I shivered.

"So, what did you do?"

"I calculated the distance to shore and chose to 'swim for it.'"

"Why do I think that didn't go well?"

"Because it did not. I was not designed to float, and I underestimated the rate at which salt water would cause adverse effects. Had the distance been shorter, or Devala Lake a salinity level closer to that of Earth's oceans, there would have been no problem, but the greater amount of salt affected my skin, and I flooded my internal mechanisms. Rather than swimming, I had to walk the distance to shore on the bottom of the sea. It took thirteen-point-seven-six-three days to drain all the water from my systems."

"And you've had an aversion to being submersed ever since?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"But you're here with me in the bath."

"An event that typically lasts forty minutes or fewer."

"Mmm. Fair point. But… why didn't you tell me this when we were on Centaurus? I dragged you to the _beach_ , Data. I made you watch me surf."

"I would not have missed the opportunity to witness my mermaid in her element."

" _Your_ mermaid?"

"My Zoe."

I closed my eyes and let myself just be in the moment. Warm water. Warm android. Bliss in a bathtub. "Yeah, I am."

He leaned forward and kissed the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and that made me shiver, too. "I would like to make love to you, Zoe. May I?"

"God, yes."

He triggered the drain with his foot, just as he'd seen me do in the tub on the _Enterprise._ He lifted me out of the tub, dried us both off with fluffy towels and carried me to our bed, where he gave me the response I'd come to expect. "I am not god, Zoe. Only Data."

I laughed low in my throat, watching as he made himself ready for me. "That's _so_ much better."

* * *

 **Notes:** The field trip to Serenity V is in the original _Crush_ and spans several chapters. Lines that Data reads are from _Master & Commander_, book 2: _Post Captain_ , by Patrick O'Brian. The idea that Data needs actual downtime is stolen shamelessly from Jeffrey Lang, who wrote _Immortal Coil_ and _The Light Fantastic_ (why they let someone who has admitted that Data is their least-favorite character write the only Data-centric books in two different years of TNG novels is beyond me. But despite the first book being insanely stupid, there were a couple of kernels of useful bits.) Special thanks to **Selena.t** for reading things when I wasn't sure they were working, and to **saya4haji** , who asked about certain aspects of Data's sexuality programming when I first wrote them into the oneshot _**Cashew**_. At the time, I didn't have a good answer for her, but her question set thoughts in motion. Data's story about Devala Lake will be told in canon by Geordi in the season seven opening episode, "Descent, Part II." As there is no information beyond, "Data decided to go swimming," I've decided my version is as valid as anyone else's. This was originally meant to be one chapter that covered Data and Zoe's time on Terlina III as well as Maddox's wedding and dropping Zoe at university, but they had a lot to discuss. Chapter Fifteen will be "Transition, "Part II."


	15. Transition - Part II

**Transition – Part II**

 **Stardate 46631.69**

 **(Tuesday, 19 August 2369, 13:38 ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

Terlina III had receded from view, and Earth was about four days away when Data asked me to join him in the cockpit of our borrowed yacht. In truth, I'd floated in and out of that space throughout our journey _to_ our jungle paradise and had similar intentions for the journey back to "civilization."

"Something wrong?" I asked, moving toward the right-hand seat.

"Not at all," he replied as he left the pilot's chair. "Sit here. We are in relatively empty space, and I believe you require flight hours if you wish to go for your shuttle pilot's license when you come home at your semester break."

"But this is a yacht."

"The shuttle pilot's license encompasses all small craft, including yachts. Please sit down." I settled into the chair he'd vacated, and he took the seat that was usually mine. "Take a moment to familiarize yourself with the instrument panel. You already know where the mission chronometer – you called it the 'countdown clock' - is located. You may find it useful to orient yourself based on that."

I did as he asked, but of course, he'd given me a brief tour of the instrument panel on our earlier trip, so I wasn't starting from nothing. After a moment, he spoke again, but he was in 'teacher mode.'

"Tell me our course and heading."

I provided the necessary information.

"Now take the _Calypso_ out of automatic flight mode."

"Switching to manual… confirmed."

After that, Data put me through the spacecraft equivalent of the school figures that ice skaters used to learn, except in three dimensions, and over much greater distances. When I was unsure how to plot the course he'd requested, he didn't supply the information I needed, but told me how to find it.

We went through those routines for about four hours, until it was obvious that I was getting punchy.

"Plot a revised path to Earth and set the controls back to automatic, then file our corrected flight-plan for transmission to both the _Enterprise_ and the nearest Starfleet checkpoint."

Again, I followed his instructions, checking my numbers twice and then asking him to confirm them for me. I'd made an error in one directional, which he showed me how to correct.

"Oh, so, you have to enter each vector separately, and then combine them into one instruction?"

"Yes. The computer can handle separate instructions but combining them is better for clarity."

"Auto-pilot has been re-engaged," I said, after a moment. "Am I done now?"

"For today. However, I would like to remind you that when you began to get tired, you could have asked to halt the lesson."

"Is that Data my teacher reminding me, or Data my partner?"

"In this case, I am both."

"I'm glad it was Geordi who was overseeing my initial lessons," I confessed, as we traded chairs again."

Data confirmed that our updated flight plan had been received, then turned back to me. "May I ask why?"

"Because when I started learning how to fly, I would have been too nervous that if I made a mistake it would affect our relationship. I worry about disappointing you." This was something I'd confessed to my mother but hadn't really told him.

"Whether you qualify as a pilot or not, Zoe, it will not affect our relationship. Flying is a skill you may need someday, and it is also a way to let you be a participant in our travels together, rather than just a passenger."

"I worry about disappointing you if I don't do well at school, too. I mean, it's different from the way I'd worry about disappointing my parents, but…" I stopped. I wasn't sure how to explain what I meant.

"If I were capable of experiencing disappointment, dearest, the only potential cause would be if I learned you were sacrificing your own needs or happiness for me."

"Did you download instructions on how to be the perfect partner while I was asleep the other night?" I snarked, mainly because his words had elicited tears.

"I am fairly certain no such document exists."

"I think you're sort of writing it as you go."

"Perhaps."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46637.60**

 **(Thursday, 21 August 2369, 17:25 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

While much of our trip to Earth was spent the way we'd spent our voyage from the _Enterprise_ to Terlina III with board games ( _Tög_ , of course, but also several games from the entertainment library), poker (with judicious amounts of good-natured grumbling from me) talking, singing, playing with Spot (who managed to find every possible hiding space the yacht had to offer), and more romantic activities – including at least one other shared bath in the tub in the Captain's Suite – being back in the space lanes meant being back "on the grid," as it were.

On our third day of travel, in the late afternoon, the communications system sprang to life with something other than the typical traffic of check-in beacons and ship-to-ship chatter: a message for me.

A message to me from the housing officer at Yale.

"I will transfer this to the comm system in the bedroom if you wish," Data offered.

"Why? It's Yale. It won't be private, and even if it was, I don't have secrets from you."

"Very well."

He triggered the playback, and an automated message began to play in one section of the forward viewscreen.

 _\- Welcome to Yale Housing. You've been assigned to Davenport College and will be spending your first year in the freshman dormitories at Welch Hall on our Old Campus. Your specific room number is 4-A-011, which means you've been assigned to one of the fourth-floor 'princess suites,' which feature window seats and cathedral ceilings in your common area._

Along with the audio playback there was a video element that began by zooming in on Earth, then North America, then Connecticut, then Yale, and then zoomed into the dorm building itself, which became a guided tour of the space.

 _\- While we offer a four-day in-person orientation, including team-building exercises and college-specific events, we realize that many of our new students are arriving from off-world, and will arrive with little time before classes begin, so we have provided a virtual orientation package, which you may download at the end of this presentation._

 _\- We have also attached profiles and contact information of your assigned suitemates. As a resident of a princess suite, you will share your common room and hygiene facilities with three other young women, all of human or close-humanoid descent. This is done for ease of climate control; we encourage you to meet all your fellow students, whatever their species._

 _\- We hope you're as excited to be part of the Yale College class of 2373 at Yale University as we are to have you among us._

There were then several files that Data downloaded and sent both to my padd and to the comm system in the master suite, so I could do the virtual meet-up with my suitemates and handle all the questionnaires without distracting him from navigation.

Or at least, that's the reason he gave, but I got the impression he recognized that this was my thing to navigate, and he wanted me to have a little privacy.

"Wow," I said, after the files had finished transferring.

"Zoe?"

"Everything just got way more… real." I said.

"Do you mean that in the same way you described our relationship as 'more real' after our time on Ligos VII?"

"Yeah," I said. "I mean. I knew the whole point of this vacation, and our time alone, was that at the end you'd be leaving me at school, but that's been sort of abstract."

"And now it is not."

"Right."

"You will be fine, Zoe. I am certain that you will find your footing, make friends, settle into classes, and create a routine with relative ease."

"And us?"

"I am equally certain that _we_ will be fine. You will be home for your winter break, and I will visit between now and then."

"Trust myself. Trust you. Trust us," I murmured.

"Zoe?"

"It's the mantra I created… before… when we were figuring stuff out. When I thought I just had a crush and everyone was talking. Counselor Troi said to trust my own instincts, and your choices, and to put trust in _us_ , as friends, as a couple, as…"

"… as a unit," my partner supplied. "As a _family._ "

I didn't have the words to answer him, so I reached across the cockpit, captured his hand, squeezed it, and let it go.

"I think I'm going to go below and read a while before dinner. Maybe nap. Will you come find me in an hour or so?"

"Of course, but, do you not want to read the files from Yale."

"Tomorrow. I'll tackle that tomorrow."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46642.25**

 **(Saturday, 23 August 2369, 10:07 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

 _\- "Are you Zoe?"_

The brown-eyed, brown-skinned face on my comm-screen smiled at me, and I couldn't help smiling back. "I am. You're Anjali?"

\- She ran a hand through her glossy black hair. _"Yes. I was surprised when the comm-address I was given was for a starship – you live on the_ _ **Enterprise?**_ _Are you famous?"_

"Hardly," I said. "My mom was transferred to the ship a few years ago, but I actually live with my boyfriend now. Mom's teaching at Starfleet Academy. And… I'm not actually on the _Enterprise,_ I'm on the _Calypso_ on the way to Earth."

 _\- "Your boyfriend is in Starfleet?"_

"He is," I explained. "He's an officer, and he's piloting this ship at the moment, but I'm sure you'll meet him eventually."

 _\- "Oh, good."_ She paused. _"I asked Margo and Chuni to join this chat if they could. Do you mind?"_

"No, I'm glad you did." It was my turn to pause. "I read the briefs they sent. You're a design major?"

 _\- "Architecture and interior design, yes. I'm glad we got a princess suite; I'm told they have the best light for artwork."_

"You paint?"

 _\- "Paint and sculpt. What about you? You're doing that new interdisciplinary program…?"_

"Performing arts and social justice, yes. My specialty is theater – acting – but I play the cello, too. Data's tried to teach me to draw more than once, but I just don't have the knack for visual art."

 _\- "That's cool."_ There were a couple of chimes and the image on the screen split into three. Margo Robeson was blonde and blue-eyed and had a sunny smile, but her image was frozen on the screen. Chuni Rodriguez had hair that was dyed purple at the ends, and both women seemed excited. _"Margo! Chuni! Welcome to our chat!"_

 _\- "Greetings from Luna Colony,"_ Chuni said. _"Margo and I were chatting yesterday. Thanks for setting this up, Anjali."_

 _\- "My friends call me Anj,"_ the other woman said. _"Zoe's finally available."_

 _\- "Hi, Zoe. Nice to meet you. What took you so long to get in touch?"_

"My boyfriend and I were on vacation and the place we were staying is kind of off the grid," I explained.

 _\- "Zoe's boyfriend is in Starfleet,"_ Anjali added.

 _\- "Oh, cool,"_ Chuni said. _"You look kind of familiar… why are you… wait, are you the same Zoe Harris who played Miranda in The Tempest here last year?"_

"That was me, yes." I said. "You saw the show? Was I awful?"

 _\- "We see every Idyllwild production that comes through the Colony,"_ I was told. _"And you were_ _ **not**_ _awful. You were_ _ **amazing**_ _. I can't believe you're really our age!"_

 _\- "And our roommate. Well, suitemate,"_ Anjali said. I saw her tap her keyboard just below frame. _"Margo? Are you with us?"_

There was a beat and then the frozen image of the blonde woman that had been on my screen came to life.

 _\- "Sorry girls, my parents needed me, and I didn't realize the call had gone through. Zoe, it's nice to meet you."_

"Same, same," I said.

I watched as Margo seemed to analyze my image on her screen.

 _\- "You're the actress who's dating Starfleet's android, aren't you?"_

I was instantly defensive. "Don't call him that."

 _\- "I'm sorry,"_ Margo said, backing off. _"I'm too blunt sometimes. I'm working on it, I swear. Are we cool?"_

"We're cool," I said. "It's just… so many people treat him like he's less than a person."

 _\- "I can see how that would annoy,"_ Anjali put in. Then she added, teasing, " _But you said you weren't famous…"_

"I'm not. Really. There was some press last year, is all. Listen, I'm dying to meet you all in person, but I'm probably not going to be there until September first. I'll be doing the virtual orientation in transit, but Data and I have a wedding to attend in San Francisco on the thirtieth, and I haven't seen my mother since January."

 _\- "No worries, Zoe,"_ Chuni breezed. _"We'll hit all the parties and get extra swag for you."_

I laughed. "Awesome. I'm really looking forward to meeting all of you."

Margo looked like she was going to add more to the conversation, but Data's voice cut in. _"Zoe, I'm afraid we are approaching the next security check-point. I must ask you to end your call."_

 _\- "Was that him?"_ Anjali asked. _"He has a lovely voice."_

"I think so, too," I admitted. "And I'll tell him you said so. See you all in a couple of weeks. _Calypso_ out."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46647.90**

 **(Monday, 25 August 2369, 11:38 hours, ship's time)**

 _ **U.S.S. Calypso**_

The yacht was on auto-pilot. I was sitting in the lounge, reading and eating grapes. They were from the replicator, but still tasty. Spot was perched behind me, alternately sleeping and playing with my hair, and Data was strumming his guitar.

Glancing up from my padd, I smiled at him. "You still owe me lessons," I pointed out. "And if we're still on track for arrival on Earth tomorrow, we're running out of time."

"We have time now, if you are amenable."

"Definitely!"

I set my padd and bowl of grapes down on the coffee table, and dislodged the cat, who slitted her eyes at me before resettling. Data, meanwhile, had taken up a position perched on the edge of a recliner. "Come sit in front of me, on the ottoman," he requested. He'd arranged the latter piece of furniture so that it abutted the chair with its short side, and his legs fit on either side of it.

"Oh, so it's going to be _that_ kind of guitar lesson," I teased. But I did as he asked, sitting close enough that I could almost feel the subtle thrum of his internal systems if I leaned back. He lifted the guitar and strap over my head and settled them against my body.

"Like the cello, you will use your left hand to stop the strings, and your right to play – in this case strum." He demonstrated, and then guided my right hand into position, so I could move it across the strings. For the first few minutes, he did the fingering, merely directing me in a rhythm. Then he showed me how to pick out specific notes.

Eventually, we moved on, engaging my left hand, as Data taught me the chords. I didn't remember my first cello lessons – I'd been so young, and everything was more easily absorbed – but I knew they'd been a lot less personal.

Certainly, they'd been less intimate.

We continued until the combination of using my hands in new ways and being so close to the man I loved became overwhelming.

"My hand is cramping," I said, when I tried to stretch to reach a more difficult chord. "Can we take a break?"

I assumed Data would get up, but he simply reclaimed the guitar and set it beside us. Then he took my left hand in both of his and ran his thumbs over all the muscles. "You have tension here," he said referring to the knot at the base of my thumb. "You should have told me sooner," he admonished gently.

"It wasn't bad," I said, "until it _was_. And anyway, I was having fun." I leaned back against his chest, while he was still massaging my hand. "Music lessons should always be like this."

"You have always responded best to a hands-on approach," Data pointed out. His tone was not quite neutral.

"Data?"

"You have, more than once, expressed a desire for a 'quickie' or a 'nooner.' It is currently thirteen oh-seven hours, but if you are interested now, we are still in an area of space where it is safe to let the autopilot remain 'in charge.'"

I turned my head against his chest and found him looking down at me. "I'm always interested," I reminded him softly. I started to get up, but he stopped me. "Data?"

"Allow me?" he asked softly. I nodded my acceptance, and he gathered me into his arms as he rose, then carried me to our stateroom, where he dimmed the lights but set the windows to let the starlight in – that was the best part about living on starships: romantic lighting any time you wanted it.

We undressed each other more slowly than a typical mid-afternoon encounter would call for, eventually finding our way to the bed, and then to one another's bodies once more. Nothing we did was new – we kissed and touched and joined in the way that had become familiar and satisfying – but was tinged by the knowledge that we had little time left before these indulgences would have to wait weeks or months to reoccur.

Still, I was satisfied, smiling, and slightly drowsy when we found our completion, and Data held me close, breathing in the scent of my hair – something he was fond of doing – while I let his pulse and that other thrum move through me.

Still later, he rose from the bed. "I must check our status," he said. "Rest, if you wish. We will share a meal when you wake."

I turned on my side and pulled his pillow into my arms. I was dimly aware when he left the room, and when Spot bounced onto the bed, but sleep called, and I let myself sink into it.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46651.16**

 **(Tuesday, 26 August 2369, 4:13 PM, local time)**

 **San Francisco, Earth**

The house Mom and Ed had purchased several months before was one of the old 'painted ladies,' from San Francisco's Victorian era. It was on Oak Street, facing the panhandle of Golden Gate Park, and just a few blocks away from the infamous Haight-Ashbury Free Clinic, which still stood, though it was no longer a medical facility, but a museum of public health.

The neighborhood had gone through many phases over the centuries since the city's founding, and was, at that time, home to many working professionals whose kids used the park as additions to their own back yards, just as many of the adult residents did.

Data and I had rented a flitter for our time on Earth, but we'd breezed through Transit Authority (apparently using a captain's yacht gets you treated like a VIP) and transferred Spot and our belongings to the flitter, stopped to get flowers for my mother, and still ended up arriving at her front door just after four in the afternoon.

The fog hadn't yet begun to roll in from the bay, and the sun was shining. It was nice to breathe real air after several days aboard the _Calypso,_ but I was aware that this was the beginning of the end. We'd spend a couple of days with my parents, relocate to the Fairmont Hotel for the wedding, and on Monday morning, Data would drop me at Yale and then return the flitter and beam back to the yacht and head back home.

A part of me was dreading our separation, still, but another part was looking forward to new experiences, and stories I could share with him.

"We cannot enter if we do not activate the annunciator," Data pointed out, shaking me from my reverie.

"Doorbell," I corrected. "Ship cabins have annunciators. Houses have doorbells. Even if they're not technically bells all the time."

"Would you prefer that I push the button?"

I gave him a sideways look and triggered the doorbell. I heard Bogart barking inside and noticed Spot bristling in her crate.

"Has Spot met dogs before?" I asked.

"She has not. This will prove to be an interesting visit."

The door opened and my mother, still in uniform, appeared, smiling. "Zoe!" She pulled me into a fierce hug that I felt myself returning. "I've missed you so much, kiddo. Come in, come in. You too, Data… and don't worry, Bogart is cat-friendly."

"I am more concerned that Spot will behave inappropriately," Data said.

Mom led us into the house and let the door close behind us. "Well, we've put you upstairs in our family suite. It used to be maid's quarters, centuries ago, but now it's got two bedrooms, each with a full bath and a sitting room." She hesitated. "Ed's sons sometimes stay up there, when they visit, but they share one of the bedrooms. The other… it's not a guest room; we meant it for you." She stepped back so that she could include Data in her meaningful gaze. "For both of you. Once you're inside the space, there's plenty of room for Spot to be out of her crate and the bathroom is big enough for a litter box." She stopped then, having led us to the living room. "I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me show you your room and then you can take some time to rest or freshen up before Ed gets home."

I glanced at Data, and then back at my mother. "Mom," I said, "It's okay if this is a little weird. I'm still your daughter, but this isn't home to me, and we're not guests the way more distant family or friends would be."

"Oh, Zoificus…"

"Forgive me, Emily," Data cut in. "But I would like to release Spot from her carrier. She dislikes being caged. As well, I believe Zoe would benefit from some 'alone time.' I have been her only company for a month, and we have been in close quarters on the _Calypso_ all week." He was exaggerating a bit. Not about the company, but about my need to decompress.

"There you go with the being-right again," I grumbled, but I was teasing and both mom and Data were aware of it. "Normally, I'd ask if there was a proper bathtub, but right now, I'd love to sprawl on a bed." My sleep had been more and more fitful as we'd approached Earth. I knew it was just nerves, but I couldn't seem to overcome it.

My mother's gaze sharpened. "You do look tired, kiddo. Alright then. Come this way." She led us up the stairs, pausing on the second floor. "Our bedroom suite and my study are on this level, as well as the laundry facility. We'll have a proper tour later." Arriving at the third floor, we turned left. "Your rooms are here." She opened the door to a sun-lit space with windows that faced the street and provided a view of the city. It was the sitting room she'd mentioned. The bedroom was beyond it, and the bathroom on the far side of that. "The linen closet in the bathroom is stocked with towels, and there are extra pillows and blankets and… Zoe, I don't even know if you still like having piles of pillows on your bed."

"She does," Data answered, even as I replied, "I do." But my partner continued. "In my study of parent-child interaction, I have learned that the disconnect you are experiencing is both typical and generally brief."

I saw Mom hide a chuckle. "Thank you, Data." She reached to hug him, and he allowed it. Once she'd released him, she stroked a gentle hand through my hair. "I'm dying to catch up with you – with both of you – but I'll try to wait just a little longer."

She turned to go but paused in the doorway. "I'm truly glad you're here, even if it is only for a couple of days."

 **(=A=)**

The clock in the bedroom told me that it was a little after six in the evening when I exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, which meant that I'd been in the bath for a bit more than half an hour. Data and I had unpacked a couple of days of clothing and set up Spot's bed and litterbox, and then, while I'd crashed on the big bed, he'd had a quiet play-session with his pet, before rousing me enough to let me know he was going downstairs to contact Wesley – something he'd promised Dr. Crusher he would do.

My mother hadn't given us any hint of what she'd planned for dinner, but I knew that if I asked for delivery food, she wouldn't object, and I couldn't face putting on real clothes. I dressed in a baggy t-shirt and sweat-pants and put only socks on my feet. After twisting my damp hair into a loose bun, I made my way back downstairs, bringing with me the gifts Data and I had chosen for Mom and Ed. House gifts, really.

I could hear voices rising and falling in conversation but couldn't quite figure out which room the speakers were in, so I paused for a moment, to listen.

"… seems tan, healthy, and happy despite being tired. Clearly your relationship is good for her," my mother was saying.

"It is 'good for me' as well, Emily. As we have both stated, we fit. Though Zoe is experiencing some anxiety about starting at Yale."

"That's normal, Data. She's still only eighteen. Even with her time at Idyllwild and on Winter, college is a big step. Are you concerned that she'll want to end your relationship?"

I froze. I hoped he wasn't worried about that. We'd both said we weren't interested in other people, and I thought I'd been clear about why I wanted more time.

"No, Emily. That is not one of my concerns. We have discussed our future plans in enough detail that I am certain our commitment to one another is strong. Zoe has, however, expressed concerns about remaining her own person in the context of her relationship with me."

"You are very visible, Data… and with your rank, and the differences in your ages, it's not unusual that someone as young as Zoe would feel a bit overshadowed at times."

"I am aware of those factors. I believe Zoe fears that she has become too dependent on… us. On our dynamic as a couple."

"Well, what do _you_ think?"

"I believe her fears are unfounded, but I also understand that Zoe learns best through experience. Nothing I tell her can assuage her fears. She has asked that we not make an official change to our relationship until she has completed this semester, and I have agreed."

I heard my mother's rueful chuckle. "I was half-expecting that you would be announcing your engagement when you arrived here."

"Would you support it, if we had?" Data's tone was open and guileless.

My mother sighed. "Oh, Data. I had a conversation with Zoe a few months ago about that. She was pretty shaken up by whatever happened with that mining colony."

"Ligos VII," Data provided instantly. "She handled herself well in a difficult situation and held her 'meltdown' until we returned home, but I would not have chosen for her to be present on the planet's surface if it had been up to me."

"No, I don't imagine you would have. She's not an officer, Data, and even though she was with me on the ship for these past few years, she hasn't been exposed to the Starfleet part of my life very much. There are going to be times when she won't react with grace and poise. Are you prepared for that?"

"I am. I have made it clear that I do not expect her to participate in any aspect of Starfleet life that she does not feel comfortable with…"

"Did she accept that?"

"Not entirely."

"No, I didn't think so."

"Were you aware that she joined the SOAR chapter on the _Enterprise_?"

"She did? Really?" My mother's voice was full of surprise, and I grinned. Childish it might have been, but I was delighted that I could still shock her. At the same time, I head the echo of my own inflections in her speech. I wondered if Data noticed that as well.

"She did. Really. I believe Deborah Jellico paved the way, but the choice was entirely hers, though she was understandably upset with me when she learned that I had asked the chapter representative not to contact her. She has also accepted that she is allowed to ask – _entitled_ to ask - for mission information typically restricted to spouses, and she has been doing so."

"She's ready," my mother said, in her musing tone.

"Ready?"

"For the future you two have been talking about for the better part of a year."

"Yes, I believe we both are." I couldn't see their faces, but I had the distinct impression that Data's posture had changed from something officer-like to something softer. "Emily, I have already had this discussion with Zach, but there is no way I would proceed with my plans before speaking with you, as well. As I said, Zoe has asked me to wait until the end of this semester before making an official proposal of marriage, and I have agreed, but I also believe that having our future somewhat… settled… will be beneficial to both of us. I wish to marry your daughter."

"And you're asking my permission?" my mother seemed faintly amused.

"No." Data's response was firm, but gentle. "The only person who can grant that permission is Zoe herself. Rather, Emily, I am asking for your approval and support."

"Oh, Data… " My mother trailed off and all was quiet. "I knew this was coming. I've known since she moved in with you, I think. You were never going to be just a lover to her, and she was never going to be just your girlfriend."

"No," he agreed. And I heard a faint note of amusement in his voice when he said, "I do not believe I am 'wired' for casual relationships. Zoe and I are partners in every way."

"You have my approval, Data. And my support, and Ed's, too – I'm sure of it. But I have to know: you said you've had this conversation with Zoe's father?"

"Yes," he said, "I have. When we were on Winter."

I smothered a gasp with my hand. I hadn't known he'd found time to have this kind of chat with Dad. I thought he'd meant over subspace.

"May I ask what he said?"

"He said that it was Zoe's decision, and that if I hurt her he would strip me down to my wires." Data's voice took on a decidedly disturbed tone. "I chose not to debate that point." He paused, and I had the feeling he was listening, determining if I was close enough to hear. "He also observed that marrying young was something of a tradition for the women in your family."

My mother's laughter rang through the house, and I felt myself laughing with her, which of course gave away the fact that I'd been hovering. "Zoificus, dear, stop in the kitchen and collect a glass of wine or mug of tea and join us in the living room, would you?"

"Sure, Mom." I called. I chose tea and carried it through to the living room. Mom was on one of the couches and Data was on the loveseat and I chose to sit with him. "Thanks for letting me nap… and soak," I said to them both. "I needed some decompression time."

"Dare I ask how much you heard of our conversation?" Data asked, lifting his arm and putting it around my shoulders.

"Enough," I said. "We can talk about it later, if you like." I kept my tone light, but inside I was feeling the way I had at Mom's wedding: as if Sychoran firedancers had taken up residence in my belly. "So, I was wondering if we could just order in pizza or Chinese food tonight?" I said, changing the subject. "I'm kind of craving food that comes in a box. More than that… I can't face putting a bra back on."

My mother laughed. "Alright then. I've been craving Chinese also, and Data, the restaurant we prefer does an amazing vegetarian lo mein."

Data thanked her for the consideration, and Mom excused herself to call Ed. I snuggled deeper into both the loveseat and Data's embrace. "It feels weird being here," I said softly. "It's my mother's house, and she's made a place for us, but I don't belong here."

"I am not surprised," he answered, his voice also low. "You have not lived in your mother's care in over a year. You have either been at home with me, or on your own. You have made your home in other places."

"I feel like I'm disappointing her."

"I do not think that is possible, just as you could never disappoint me as long as you are true to yourself."

"God, I love you."

"And I am devoted to you, always."

I rested my head against his shoulder, not bothering to move when my mother came back in the room. Her gushy-mom expression said everything I needed to hear.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46656.40**

 **(Thursday, 28 August 2369, 2:06 PM, local time)**

 **San Francisco, Earth**

Getting a manicure and pedicure before Bruce Maddox's wedding had always been on my agenda, but it was my mother who suggested we go together. She and Ed had also been invited. Ed knew Dr. Gratz from Berkeley, where the confrontational psychotherapist taught a couple of classes every semester. (I pitied the freshmen who got _him_ for Psych 101.)

A mother-daughter afternoon seemed appropriate, so I agreed, and she booked the appointment for the same block of time Data had set aside to drop in on Wesley. Once our nails had been done, we went for lunch at a restaurant near the house – all the places on the wharf would be too crowded with tourists for another week or so.

"You could have told me, if you'd wanted to see your friend," Mom said. "I know Wes was a couple years ahead of you, but your group was close. You should protect those relationships. No one else can comprehend the experience of living life on a starship like those who've been through it."

"Mom, I'll be visiting you lots, and there will be time to drag Wes out for coffee on those visits. Anyway, Data's drop-in isn't entirely social. Dr. Crusher asked him to go as a mentor and former colleague. He's there as her proxy."

"Oh… no, I can see why you wouldn't want to be there for that."

"Definitely not." The Bollian woman who had come to bring our drinks smiled at my emphatic response. "Besides, he hasn't had the luxury of seeing Data and I together for a year, the way my other friends have. It would be a bit weird."

"For you or for him?" Was there a note of concern in her tone? I've never been certain.

"For him, Mom, really." I answered with a touch of irritation. I took a breath. "Sorry," I said. "I'm a little anxious about the wedding. One of the grooms tried to end my partner's life, and the other tried to make me doubt my relationship."

"I suspect it's more than just the wedding you're anxious about, kiddo."

Like Data, my mother had an annoying tendency to be right. "You mean school?"

"I mean being so far away from each other for a longer time than you've been separated," Mom clarified gently. "You know he loves you, Zoe. You know he would never – "

I interrupted her, "I know. I'm more worried about the dynamic changing once I'm back in school. This last year, I had classes, yes, but mostly they were private tutorials. - Did you know I'm fluent in the common tongue of Vulcan now, and learning old high Vulcan as well? - But I was _also_ working. When I was on Winter, I wasn't a student, just a working actor. And now? Now I'm back to being just a student again."

"The best of us never stop being students," my mother said.

"Did you hear that from Deanna?"

"Why? Did she give you the same speech?"

"Sort of. After… after that one incident… the one after your Maarklin mission? I told her I couldn't be Data's student any more, and she pointed out that in many ways he was still a student, himself."

"She's right."

"But it's not the same."

"No, sweetie, it's not. But you're a bright and generally level-headed young woman, and while I'd normally remind you to use your head, in this case, I think you should trust your heart."

"Somehow, I knew you'd say that."

"Well, it's in the official Mom Book."

"In the chapter on sending kids to college?"

"In the chapter on ushering your adult child toward the future she's meant to have."

"I have _got_ to get a copy of that book."

Our food was delivered then: sourdough bread bowls of clam chowder with small side salads, and conversation slowed until I asked. "Do you mind that you're not the one taking me to school?"

My mother froze with her fork half-way to her mouth. Then she set it down, using the time to recover, and daubed at the corners of her mouth, with her napkin. "There's a part of me that always imagined it would be your Dad and me, taking you to college," she said slowly. "I remember the day Nonna and Papa dropped me at the Academy. They insisted on taking my picture as I reported to my section leader. I was _so_ embarrassed. But our section leader reminded us that we should honor our parents' need to be part of our lives. 'It's why you all get fifteen minutes of free comm time every week,' he said."

"So, you _do_ mind."

"No," my mother was quick to assure me. "I'm a little bit wistful, but you've been on your own for over a year now, kiddo, and it's right that Data should have that moment with you. Although…" she stretched out the phrase, "I wouldn't mind a picture of you receiving your key."

I laughed. "I think we can work that out. Did I tell you, we've been assigned one of the princess suites?"

"Did you tell me? Did you _tell me?"_ My mother was being melodramatic on purpose, though she'd resumed eating, at least. "Daughter-of-mine, I cannot catalogue the things you have _not_ told me."

I had the decency to blush. "Sorry. I just… why don't I tell you now?" She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips, and I continued, "So, I have three suite-mates, Anjali, Margo, and Chuni. Chuni is from Luna Colony, but Anjali and Margo have lived here on Earth their entire lives. We'll each have our own bedrooms, but we share a common room and a bathroom. And get this mom, the common room has _window seats_."

If I'd brought a padd along, I could have showed pictures, but I hadn't, so Mom had to suffer through me describing the suite I'd be sharing. "We've been chatting via text a lot and we had a video call via subspace while Data and I were on our way here, but I'm a little nervous about meeting them in person. What if they don't like me? What if they think I'm a snob because I've been a working actor? What if I can't adjust to dorm life? I mean, I've only ever shared a bathroom with Data."

"And me," Mom reminded me. "But I don't suppose I count."

"Well, you _do_ , but you also don't," I said, and we laughed because she completely understood what I meant. Still, I felt compelled to add, "There is a parents' weekend once a semester. At the end of semester and at the end of April. You could come to one… you know… if you wanted to."

The smile that spread across my mother's face was matched only by my own. "I'd like that, but make sure you invite your father."

"I thought one of you could come in fall, the other in spring," I said. "You're closer. You're first."

"Speaking of closer, will your visits home be social, or purely for laundry purposes?"

"Home?" I was momentarily confused. The _Enterprise_ would almost never be close enough for a weekend visit. "Oh, you mean your house." Mom's smile faded, and I jumped to correct the situation. "I didn't mean… I'd love to come for weekends," I said. "Social weekends. I have a feeling once the newness of school settles in, I'm going to need the kind of comfort and coddling only a mother can provide." I took a beat. "Though bringing home laundry _is_ a time-honored college student ritual."

Mom reached across the table, captured my hand in hers, squeezed it, and released. "I'm glad, Zoe"

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46662.08**

 **(Saturday, 30 August 2369, 3:50 PM local time)**

 **Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco, Earth**

"The wedding does not begin for two more hours," Data called to me while I was in the bathroom. "I do not understand why you must begin your preparations so early."

"I'm not 'beginning my preparations,' I said. "I'm taking advantage of this gorgeous tub." The bathroom in our room was positively luxurious, and the tub was both jetted and large enough for two. "When I'm done in the bath, _then_ I'll begin my preparations. I hope you approve of my dress."

I hadn't known, when I bought the dress from a Cardassian tailor named Garak on Deep Space Nine, whether Data would be wearing his dress uniform or a tuxedo. I'd chosen a deep maroon color, even though it was technically still summer, because both the tailor in question and Keiko O'Brien had insisted it went well with my hair and skin tone.

Data hadn't seen it yet.

"Very well, dearest, I will leave you to soak. Would you like me to take your dress out of its garment bag to 'air out?'"

I hesitated. One the one hand, I did want it to have time to breathe, but on the other, I wanted it to be a surprise.

"Can you do that without looking too closely at it? I mean, you will have to zip it for me, but I'd rather you didn't see it until it was…"

"… on you?" Data came into the bathroom, barefoot and shirtless, just as I was sinking into the hot, bubbling water. "I am looking forward to that as well. I left the tissue on it, and merely removed it from the garment bag. As we have time, I thought I would join you in the bath. May I?"

I grinned and moved forward in the tub to give him space. "I'd love that." He skinned off the rest of his clothing and joined me in the tub, and I resettled myself against his chest. "Only two more nights," I said softly. "This month has gone too quickly."

I could almost feel my partner restraining himself from correcting me about the speed of time. "We must make the most of the time we have left," he said softly, and brought his hands up to trail soapy water over my breasts. "For now, relax."

I tried to do as he asked.

 **(=A=)**

It wasn't quite two hours later that we arrived at the hotel's rooftop garden. The ceremony would be there, and the reception – dinner and dancing – was in the Venetian Room downstairs. Apparently a twentieth-century singer named Tony Bennett had debuted a famous song there. The song had caught his attention when we'd booked our room, and he'd sung it to me in the bath.

 _"I left my heart in San Francisco  
High on a hill, it calls to me  
To be where little cable cars climb halfway to the stars  
The morning fog may chill the air, I don't care"_

"Nice song," I'd quipped. "But you're actually leaving me in Connecticut, unless the schedule has changed."

That, of course, had led to a short – for Data – dissertation on the history of the song and the hotel. But all too soon we were dressed – he in a tuxedo, and me in the maroon dress I'd hidden from his view all summer.

The dress was a light-weight lattice of maroon straps over a silky sheath that matched the tone of my suntanned skin almost exactly. Only a subtle shimmer rendered the lining visible at all, which was the intent. It was both sexy – not quite form-fitting, but certainly form-revealing – but the trick was that the skirt had hidden pleats that allowed movement for dancing. I hadn't asked for the shoulder wrap that blended the maroon and peachy-bronze in a delicate gauzy confection, but I'd sent Mr. Garak a kind note when I'd found it in the box. I'd decided that black heels were acceptable if they were suitably strappy; conveniently, I already owned a pair.

I didn't typically wear my hair up – unless it was in a messy bun just to keep it from my face - but the lines of the dress demanded it. Still, my updo was a soft one, with a few wisps of loose hair framing my face.

Data didn't catch his breath when he saw my completed look, but he stared long enough that it was notable. "I believe I am with the most aesthetically pleasing woman at this event," he said softly.

From anyone else, the technical language would have seemed smarmy. From my partner – my lover – the man who one day might be putting a ring on _my_ finger – those words were a rave review. I'd learned that he always defaulted to formal language when he was truly moved or affected by something.

"Well, I've definitely got the most dashing date," I'd answered.

But there hadn't been time for much more chatter. We'd exited our room, entered the elevator, and arrived in the rooftop garden where we were asked which groom we represented, and were directed to Maddox's side.

As we took our seats, I glimpsed my mother and Ed on the opposite side of the aisle, caught the former's eye, and offered a tiny wave, which she returned. We likely wouldn't see one another during the reception, and that was fine.

The setting was amazing. The hotel was perched at the top of Nob Hill, and the roof offered a panoramic view of the city – the bridges, all lit – the streets, full of people enjoying the unofficial last weekend of summer – and the garden itself, with a centerpiece fountain that had been replaced with holographic water at some point but was still beautiful and tranquil.

Maddox wore his dress uniform, but Gratz was in a tuxedo. The ceremony was a secular one. The officiant was some vice-admiral from the JAG office – they said its name (it was from an agender race and had a breathing apparatus as well as a vocoder) – but I would have needed to hear it spoken slowly to grasp it. The grooms had written their own vows which were short, and surprisingly poignant, something, I hadn't expected from the smarmy officer and prickly shrink.

After the wedding party exited, we were asked to make way to the elevators for transfer down to the reception. There would be thirty minutes of cocktails to allow everyone time to relocate.

Data kept his hand at my back, ushering me through the crowd. Later, I knew, we'd rehash the wedding, discuss what we'd liked and what we hadn't. In that moment, we were simply enjoying the event.

And then someone called his name.

"Data? Is that… is that really you?" We both turned in the direction of the sound, which had come from a woman older than I was but not – I didn't think – quite Data's age. "I should have guessed you'd be at the wedding of Starfleet's leading cyberneticist."

"Commander Maddox and I are old acquaintances," Data responded to the woman. "But I am surprised to find you here." He paused, then nudged me slightly, so that I was both in line with him, and closer to him. "Zoe, this is Ard'rian Mackenzie. I believe I have mentioned her to you before. Ard'rian, this is my lifemate, Zoe Harris." He'd used the Standard version of the word this time, and I smiled and tried to remember what he'd told me about the other woman even as I offered my hand in greeting.

"Good to meet you," I said. "Lovely ceremony, don't you think?"

"Yes," she said, "It was. It's nice to meet you, too." And then she glanced at Data, "You look well. Apparently, there were no long-term effects from removing the sub-processor from your arm?"

"None whatsoever," he responded lightly.

But their exchange had jogged my memory enough to place her name. They'd met on a solo mission he'd had around the time I'd started my first year of school on the _Enterprise_ – maybe a little bit before. She'd helped him out with his task and kissed him. He'd recognized her interest but hadn't returned it though he had returned her kiss before leaving, though for very different reasons. Her name had come up during one of our early conversations about dating and relationships. I wondered if I was supposed to be jealous, but she didn't seem like a threat.

"You also look well. I am somewhat surprised to see you here, however. I thought you had remained with your people, after resettlement."

"I did," she said, "for a year, and then I realized I wanted more. I considered Starfleet, but I felt too old to be a cadet, so I applied for engineering certifications, and was recruited to be a civilian employee of the Daystrom Institute, and I'm really happy there. Of course, it's technically an internship while I complete a formal degree, but… " She trailed off, making it obvious she wasn't going to finish the sentence.

I expected Data to want to catch up with her a bit more, but he surprised me. "I am glad you have found a place to belong."

"I have," she said. "But I'm still better with machines than people. I'm sorry, Zoe, I've completely ignored you. Are you also Starfleet?"

"I'm not," I said. "though the _Enterprise_ has been my home for several years. Like you, I'm balancing work and study. I'm an actress." I used the feminine form of the word largely out of habit. You'd think all the time working in Protocol would have fixed that. "I'm also a student. My classes begin on Tuesday morning."

"An actress, really? That seems so incongruous with what I know of Data."

"Not at all," my partner put in. "Zoe and I have shared the stage many times." He glanced over at the bar. "I believe this is the optimal time to procure a drink," he stated, moving his hand to the small of my back once again. "Shall we?"

"Thank you, I'd like that."

"Excuse us?" Data asked Ard'rian.

"Of course," she said. I wasn't sure if I detected a note of wistfulness in her tone. "It was good meeting you, Zoe, and good to see you Data."

My partner guided me toward the bar and checked to see what I wanted. "A peach Bellini would be lovely," I said. It was, apparently, the official drink of the wedding. Data acquired two of the cool, fruity drinks, and we meandered toward the doors to the banquet hall, greeting a few officers who knew him on sight, though no one stopped us to chat.

"I was not expecting Ard'rian to be here," he said. "I apologize if you were uncomfortable."

"If it were Jenna we'd run into, I might have been," I said. "But I know your history with Ard'rian, and she wasn't giving off jealousy vibes. Besides, we both know a lot of people. You know more, of course, because you're older and have more life experience, but we're going to run into old… friends… from time to time. If we can't trust each other when we're literally touching…" I trailed off, not really wanting to prolong the conversation. Changing tacks, I said, "She seems like she's found her sweet spot, and I suspect you were an influence. That's a good thing."

"Yes," he agreed, "it is. Shall we find our seating assignment?" We'd made it to the table full of place cards.

"Good idea," I said.

I hadn't been sure, until we found our table, where we rated on the scale of guests, but we were only one table back from the head table, and our tablemates included other old friends – Commander Rose McInerny whom I'd met the previous summer at Starfleet Academy's graduation ceremony, along with her husband Leo, and Professor Wire-Whiskers, the Eeoauian scientist I'd met at the Hamal IV conference a few months earlier.

"Zoe!" he greeted, introducing us both to his mate, Bright-Star (she had a white star-shaped marking in the fur on her forehead). "I'm glad to see you made it to Earth! I have news to share; remind me after they feed us."

After that the evening became more fun. The food was excellent, and the six of us fell into easy chatter, catching up with each other's lives, and getting to know one another's partners. Leo, it turned out, was also Starfleet – a captain of engineering, and on faculty at the civilian engineering school in Scotland, where my friend Annette was studying - and Bright-Star was on the faculty at Yale, albeit in the music department."

"Whiskers says you'll be at Yale with us?" she asked. "Do you know which college?"

"Davenport," I said. "I mean, I'll be in Welch for this year, but…" I was interrupted by sight of her white tail-tip making contact with her husband's ear.

"My heart, what was that for?"

"Not telling me Zoe was one of mine."

"One of yours?"

"She's been assigned to Davenport."

"Oh. Ohhhh! One of yours!"

"Would you mind elaborating for the rest of us?" I asked, interrupting the interspousal banter.

"Zoe, I'm sorry. I should have said. I've been assigned as Davenport's dean this year," Bright-Star explained. "You understand our house system?"

I nodded. "I've been chatting with my suitemates. Apparently, we've got a princess suite."

The Starfleet types all wanted to know what that meant, and I explained. "Freshman live in dorms on the old campus, and the dorm I'm in has top-floor suites with two story common rooms and window seats; they call them 'princess suites.'"

"That sounds delightful," Rose commented. "Very different from living on a starship. Are you ready for that adjustment?"

"I have every confidence that Zoe will thrive at Yale," Data answered before I could. "Although she will be missed at home."

"A lover's statement if I ever heard one!" Whisker's said.

"Weddings bring out the sentimentality in us all," Rose responded. "And I think it's good to see our Data with a partner who is worthy of him."

I felt my face go hot and I reached for my water glass to distract myself, but it was empty. Data caught my movement and traded glasses with me, then reached for the pitcher in the center of our table to refill the one he'd taken.

Our conversation shifted, then, to Data's career, and current projects, most of which I knew about, and then to what Whiskers and Leo were each working on. Rose and Bright-Star were chatting about the incoming students at their respective institutions, but they made an effort to include me.

Still, I was relieved when all conversation ceased. Each groom's chief attendant – Maddox's sister and Gratz's college roommate and life-long best friend made a short toast, and then the music, which had been bland, background tunes until then, was turned up, and the two men took the floor for their first dance together.

It was surprisingly sweet, seeing two such prickly people sharing such a joyful moment, but when the song ended, they invited everyone to join them – they weren't doing traditional dances with parents – and Data invited me to the dance floor.

For the next couple of hours, we danced – mostly I danced with Data, but I danced with Leo and Whiskers also, while Data partnered Rose and Bright-Star, and then Dr. Gratz approached our table. Very politely, and somewhat tentatively, he asked me to dance with him. I glanced at Data who merely nodded. I had the feeling he was thinking of a way to remind me not to punch a groom at his own wedding.

I was wary, but I managed to be gracious. In fact, even attempted a joke, "If you're charging me a session fee for this dance…"

"I'm not. I wouldn't. I… " he sighed. "I owe you an apology. I hadn't realized no one had told you I specialized in confrontational therapy. It's actually a valid style."

"I've been told that," I admitted, "since then. But it wasn't what I needed."

"No, and… it's possible I saw something of myself in you. I also fell for a teacher when I was young. It was at university, not high school, but it wasn't healthy. He had all the power and I was innocent and impressionable. It was my first real relationship. And then… you'd mentioned Data's brother, you said you had spent extensive amounts of time alone with him."

Realization dawned. "You thought he was grooming me."

"I… yes. You were so young – you still are – and all I knew of Commander Data was what Bruce told me."

"Then you should have known that Data would never - _could never_ \- do that."

"I do now," he said. "Bruce said he and Data resolved some issues during the conference on Hamal IV."

"They did, but even so, we were surprised that you invited us here tonight. To be honest, when we got the invitation," I said, as we continued to move on the dance floor, "I thought your behavior might have to do with your husband's view of Data."

"You mean his crush?" Gratz laughed.

"Crush?" I was confused. "No, I meant his desire to take him apart."

"Oh, there was that. But Bruce has had a crush on Data for years. Every time he was honored for an achievement or awarded a medal, I had to hear about it, and then when you two hit the media last year…"

"But that was after… " I began. And then I understood. Maddox's 'crush' wasn't a serious thing, it was just part of his obsession about learning how Data functioned. Gratz had truly believed he was somehow protecting me by making me question my relationship."

"You were wrong, you know. Data and I… we're together because we fit."

"I realized that when I finally read the interviews you did, and when Bruce told me about meeting you. He wanted to introduce me, and I had to confess you'd been a patient, and an unsatisfied one, at that."

"He didn't know?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"I don't typically discuss my cases at home. And when I learned who you were there was no way I was going to share it with Bruce. Please believe me, Ms. Harris, I am sincerely sorry for the way I behaved."

"It's Zoe," I corrected. "I'm not your patient."

"And I'm just Marvin… Marv, even."

"Deal." I hesitated. "Look, I hate to ask but… I'm starting at Yale in a couple of days. And I may need a therapist again. I don't like your therapeutic style, but I know your reputation" I smiled. "I might have done some reading, also. Could you recommend someone a bit more…"

"… traditional? Yes. Message my office. No, wait. I'll have Bruce contact Data when we get back from our honeymoon."

"Thank you," I said. The song was ending. "For the explanation and for the dance. And congratulations on your marriage. Data and I both hope you and Bruce are happy together."

I returned to my table, and Data, who was waiting for me. "You look less stressed than I anticipated."

"Well, it wasn't just a dance. I also slew a dragon. Kind of."

"I look forward to hearing the story."

"Can it wait? They're playing a waltz. I want to waltz with you."

"As you wish."

We danced a while longer, until they served the cake. With that last bit of formality over, the party loosened up a bit. The music got bouncier, and group dances started to happen: a hora; a bunny-hop led by an extremely obese Andorian whose antennae wiggled when he moved; a Scottish reel called by a Tellarite in a kilt. The chicken dance had been eliminated from the list – two of the Avian species present found it offensive - but Whiskers and Bright-Star made up for it with their phenomenal execution of the electric slide.

Eventually, the bandleader announced last call, and Bruce and Marvin made their way to each table to bid their guests goodnight before making their exit.

Our table was the last to disperse, with both Whiskers and Bright-Star promising Data that they'd keep watch over me, which led to the former exclaiming. "Ach. My news: Zoe, you made it into my class!"

Whiskers taught an extremely popular course at Yale: The Philosophy of AI, but freshman weren't generally admitted. I'd petitioned for a place in it when we'd met, months earlier, on Hamal IV, but Whiskers had said he couldn't guarantee a spot, even for me, and when I'd registered for my initial courses, I'd been wait-listed.

"Seriously?" I asked. "Enough people dropped already?"

"It happens. Students over-schedule or forget to include a core class for their major." He tilted his head to stare at me from his bright green eyes, and his ears twitched slightly. "Be sure you can handle the extra class in your schedule. First semester freshmen tend to overload because they're accustomed to high school courses."

"I'll be able to handle it," I affirmed, even though I wasn't entirely certain I could. "Thank you."

His tail coiled around my wrist, only to be joined by his mate's. "Welcome to Yale, Zoe. We'll see you in a couple of days."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46663.51**

 **(Sunday, 31 August 2369, 4:23 AM, local time)**

 **Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco, Earth**

Our hotel room didn't have a balcony, but it had a bay window, which is where I found myself sitting in the middle of the night. Data had initiated his dream program shortly after we'd gone to bed, around three, and it typically ran for ninety minutes when he didn't have to allow for duty shifts or other appointments. Apparently, his father had based it on the average REM cycle of a human being.

So why was I sitting on the window seat, wrapped in the complimentary bathrobe provided by the hotel at four-twenty-three in the morning? Because in an ironic turn of events, while my android partner was dreaming, I was unable to sleep, knowing that sometime the next day, Data would be dropping me at Yale and returning to the _Enterprise_ alone.

Well, alone except for Spot, who was at Mom's house for the night.

I sighed and turned my face toward the window. There was no fog, just streetlights and starlight and the outlines of bridges… the city of San Francisco showing off for me.

"Zoe, are you alright?" Data's voice came from the bed.

"Couldn't sleep. _Can't_ sleep."

"Did I injure you when we made love?"

When we'd returned to our room around midnight, Data had taken another look at me in my Garak Original dress and informed me that he was experiencing 'significant desire,' before peeling it off me, and taking me to bed. He'd then proceeded to demonstrate at least twenty-three of his multiple techniques before I'd lost count.

"You could never hurt me that way. Tire me out, maybe, and I might be slightly sore later, but… it's a good sore. I promise."

"Ah. Then… did Whiskers' remarks about managing your course load cause you to become anxious?" I heard him push the blankets off, and retrieve his own robe, on his way to joining me.

"Maybe a little. But I'm also thinking about the conversation I had with Marvin when we were dancing."

"Oh?"

"He apologized for treating me poorly. He hadn't known that no one told me he was a confrontational therapist, and he thought he saw a pattern repeating."

"A pattern?"

"One of his professors seduced him when he was at college. It wasn't an equitable relationship. And then… did you know Bruce has a bit of a crush on you?"

"I was not aware."

"I don't think it's a serious thing. Marvin didn't seem bothered by it. It does explain why he was so eager to transfer you, though." I grinned, "Can't blame him. It wasn't so long ago that I would have done anything just to be able to hold your hand. Touching you… having the _right_ to touch you… I can't get enough of it. But you're leaving me at school and heading home tomorrow. And I won't get to… Maybe you should have stopped spending nights in bed with me. Get me used to being alone."

"I am certain that you do not mean that."

I sighed again. "No. Not really. I'm just… nervous, I guess. Anxious. Scared."

"I thought we had set your fears about our relationship to rest?"

I looked down at our joined hands and then back up into his moonlit face. "I seem to be finding whole new things to worry about. Like what if you get hurt on an away mission, like Mom did? Or what if you get killed? Or go into battle? Or…" I trailed off. "Am I being silly?"

"No. You are demonstrating that you care. Zoe, you are aware that any of those things are possible, but they are extremely unlikely. If something _were_ to happen to cause me to be damaged – "

" – Injured – "

He accepted my correction with a dip of his head, and continued, " – you would be notified and either Starfleet or SOAR would ensure that you had transport to the _Enterprise._ "

"I don't suppose you could promise not to let anything happen?"

"You know I cannot." My reply turned into a yawn. "It has been a long day, and I have planned an activity for this afternoon. Will you come back to bed, and try to sleep, so that you are well-rested and able to enjoy it?"

"I'll come back to bed. No promises on the sleep thing."

I let Data lead me back to the bed. He helped me remove my robe, watched as slid under the covers, and then shed his own robe and rejoined me. "May I hold you?" he asked, and I responded by scooting closer to settle into his arms.

I closed my eyes and tried to let the subtle thrum of my partner's internal systems – the sound that I considered to belong to me – to lull me into sleep, but even though I _was_ tired, I still couldn't relax. Finally, after I'd tossed and turned for at least forty minutes, I realized what I needed.

After turning to face him, I reached my hand out to rest it on Data's chest. "I still can't sleep," I said. "And I think I know what we need to do so I can, if you're willing."

"Tell me."

By seven-thirty, we had both showered and dressed, and were standing in line at a trendy breakfast place in North Beach. "Sundays are usually crazy busy there," I'd explained as we'd made our way across the city. "But part of the fun is waiting in line with all the other people who want to eat there. Inside, there's only like twelve tables. But their food is incredible, and I've wanted to share it with you for two years."

"Two years?"

"The first time I came here was with Alynna, Theo, and Wes after mass one week when I was at Idyllwild."

"Ah."

"Will it kill your plans if we go back to the hotel and nap after we eat?" We had arranged a two pm check-out.

"It will not."

We were the third couple invited inside the restaurant, and Data found the open kitchen fascinating, as I suspected he would. We were given a table in the window where we could look out on Washington Square and see the people going to church or running in the park, or, in one case, a bunch of older women doing something that wasn't quite yoga and wasn't quite tai chi but looked like a blend of both.

The food was excellent. Our conversation was light. And by the end, I was ready for the nap I'd mentioned.

In fact, I fell asleep in the flitter.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46665.08**

 **(Sunday, 31 August 2369, 6:09 PM, local time)**

 **Niantic, CT, Earth**

Even after breakfast I hadn't been able to nap for more than two hours. We checked out of the Fairmont at noon, retrieved Spot from my mother's house (oddly, she and Ed were out, but they'd provided their access code), and at that point, Data was the keeper of our agenda.

Our final afternoon together began with a light lunch at the Alazar's Ethiopian restaurant, and then we stopped at the storage unit where the furniture from my apartment was kept. Inside, we retrieved a coffee table I'd promised my suitemates I'd supply, as well as a piece of art – the print of Mondrian's _Tableau I_ that I'd had in said apartment.

"That wasn't on my list of things to retrieve," I said, when Data located it, and pulled it out of its spot.

"Perhaps not, but two years ago, it brought you comfort when you were on Earth, and I suspect it may do so again."

"You realize everyone else is going to have pictures of pop stars and movie posters on their walls?"

"You are not everyone else."

I laughed. "No, I guess I'm not. So, where to, now?""

"That is a surprise."

"You realize I can look at the display and know where you're taking me?"

"I am aware. However, I also trust that you will refrain from 'peeking,' because you enjoy surprises."

"Mmm. Make a stop at Red Sands so I can get a mocha and I will play by your rules."

 **(=A=)**

The mocha was delicious, but even the extra caffeine wasn't enough to make up for my sleep deficit, so I dropped off again, which meant I literally _couldn't_ peek at the coordinates for our destination. I didn't wake again until the flitter touched down.

In Connecticut.

At Nonna and Papa's house.

"Zoe, we are here."

"I can see that, but why are we…" I noticed several other flitters parked in the driveway and on the street. One had a California registration. Another was a rental. "Data, what's going on?"

"You are starting college tomorrow."

"I know that. It's kind of the whole reason we took a month-long vacation."

"You chose not to join your friends on their trip to Risa. You elected not to participate in the graduation ceremony on the _Enterprise_. In my studies of human development, I have learned that it is customary to mark such a transition with a celebration, so tonight, there will be a small party in your honor."

"You called my grandparents to arrange this?" I was incredulous. Touched. But incredulous.

"I am afraid I cannot take credit for anything except getting you here. Your Nonna contacted me before we left the _Enterprise_ , and I suggested what you might like."

"What did you suggest?"

"You will find out when we leave the aircar and enter the house."

I grinned and leaned over to kiss him with coffee-stained lips. "There you go with the being-right again." But part of me was a little bit annoyed. I didn't want a party. I wanted our last night together to be just us.

 **(=A=)**

The party turned out to be very warm and low key. Nonna and Papa made a fuss, of course, but grandparents are sort of entitled to that. "Oh, _bella mia_ ," my grandmother gushed, "it's so good to have you back here." She folded me against her ample bosom, and I was surrounded by the scent of _Chanel No.5_. "You and Data are staying here tonight; I hope you don't mind?"

I did, but only a little. "No, Nonna, it's fine. Data said this was all your idea."

My grandfather had been greeting Data while Nonna had me in her clutches, but she pushed me away then. "Data! My favorite granddaughter's handsome _amichetto_. Welcome to our home."

"Thank you, Mrs. Morelli," Data began but my grandmother cut him off. "Friends call me _Delia_ she said. But you are family, so you may use my name or call me Nonna, as Zoe does. And my husband, you call him Luigi or Papa."

Data met my eyes over my grandmother's gray-haired head. And I shrugged. To her, her said, "Thank you, Nonna."

"Now, go leave your bags, let the cat out of her crate, freshen up, and then come through to the back yard. We have a barbecue going. Fish, burgers, and tofu patties – something for everyone."

My grandparents had been redoing their back yard the last time I'd seen the house, the summer before. I'd never gotten to experience the finished product, so I was looking forward to seeing it all done up.

Somewhat refreshed, Data and I exited the house to find ourselves under an ivy-covered pergola with twinkle lights twisted around it. The patio, which had built in bench seats around three sides, stretched beneath it all the way across the yard. Several and low tables had been placed within easy reach of anyone sitting on the benches, and in the center, there was a grill-top over a fire pit. Rather than having the big floodlights on, my grandparents had placed citronella candles and flameless tea-lights on the tables and on shelves and niches built into the fence.

One side of the deck was open, and there was a strip of grass and then an in-ground lap pool. Only about a meter and a half deep, and about four lanes wide, it was literally meant for exercise and summertime floating.

More candles, I noticed, had been floated in the pool.

It was all very simple and lovely and homespun, and my annoyance dissipated very quickly.

As we entered the space everyone came to greet us. Mom and Ed, Dad and Gia, Uncle Zane, Annette and Dana - and even Wes - who were all in universities (Starfleet Academy _was_ still a university) on Earth but had the next day off for the Labor Day holiday. It was a chaotic mess of hugs and kisses and everyone talking over each other.

"Dad, I thought your gig on Winter lasted til Christmas?"

"I put my assistant in charge for a couple of weeks. We're in touch every day, and she's enjoying getting to conduct almost every performance."

"Is Zeke here, too?"

"No, he's on Winter with your Gran. Gia and I will be spending some time with Tony and Nunzia before we head back."

"Oh, nice! Send my love, please?"

"We will. If your schedule permits, we might even steal you for a dinner. They love you, you know."

"I know," I said. "It's mutual. Really."

I hugged my father and my stepmother and let all four of my parents lead Data and me to the seats that had been designated for us.

Dana practically squealed. "Zoe! You made it!"

"We thought you'd never get here!" Annette added.

"I was surprised when Data arrived on campus without you the other day," Wes said.

I turned to Data, "So, when you went to the Academy to see him… you _weren't_ just there as Beverly's proxy?"

"That is inaccurate. I relayed the doctor's message, and took Wes to lunch, as she'd requested, and then I invited him to join us here."

"Kiddo, I was so surprised to be invited here; but Baja's been really good to me. I bought a house there. New album launches next month."

"Zane, that's awesome!"

One the initial greetings were over, the evening mellowed. Food was served: burgers, hot dogs, fish and tofu, corn on the cob, devilled eggs, and a couple of different salads were on the menu, and dessert was a selection of fruit pies. I chose strawberry-rhubarb with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and shared it with Data, who seemed intrigued by the sweet-tart combination.

After dessert the conversation became quieter, and Zane began strumming the guitar he always had with him. If he was hoping for a sing-a-long he was disappointed, but as the fire began to flicker and dim, Data asked if he might borrow Zane's instrument.

My uncle seemed surprised, but handed the guitar to Data, who tweaked the tuning – super android hearing was better than that of even the best musician, as I knew from experience – and began to play. I was the only one there who even knew my boyfriend played guitar, so the change in players drew the attention of everyone there.

Over his playing, Data explained, "Several months ago, in an effort to understand Zoe better, I began to study folk music, and I was drawn to a twentieth-century singer and songwriter who went by the name 'John Denver.' Not quite four months ago, I shared one of his songs with Zoe, to express a new… feeling… I was experiencing. If you will all allow, I would like to sing another of his songs for her tonight. I will be leaving in a yacht, rather than a 'jet plane,' but I believe the sentiment is appropriate for our last night together for a while."

There were various encouraging murmurs, but Data met my eyes before he began to sing.

 _All my bags are packed  
I'm ready to go  
I'm standin' here outside your door  
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye  
But the dawn is breakin'  
It's early morn  
The taxi's waitin'  
He's blowin' his horn  
Already I'm so lonesome  
I could die_

If the simplistic, almost eager, lyrics seemed at odds with Data's usually-rational demeanor, no one mentioned it. Rather, both my sets of parents and my grandparents looked at each other with that dewy gaze that all couples share when they're remembering their own younger days, my uncle pulled a personal comm out of his pocket and send a message to… someone. Annette, Dana, and Wes seemed both touched and a bit embarrassed. They still saw Data as a teacher and colleague.

 _So, kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go  
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane  
Don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh babe, I hate to go_

As for me? I was melting. I was also thinking about every conversation we'd had over the last few months, about surviving separation, about why Data was ready to move our relationship forward and why I'd asked for time to adjust before doing so. I remembered a question I'd asked him a year before: _Will there ever be a time when one of us isn't leaving?_

At that point, Data had assured me that there would, and I'd believed him.

I still believed him.

But apparently before that time came, we would have to endure a lot of time apart.

 _Now the time has come to leave you  
One more time  
Let me kiss you  
Then close your eyes  
I'll be on my way  
Dream about the days to come  
When I won't have to leave alone  
About the times, I won't have to say_

 _Oh, kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go  
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane  
Don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh babe, I hate to go_

I couldn't help it: as soon as the last chord faded away, I took the guitar from his hands and handed it back to my uncle. Then I kissed him.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46667.02**

 **(Monday, 1 September 2369, 11:06 AM)**

 **Welch Hall, Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

I've always had this thing with vacations. While I was on vacation, I wanted them to last forever, but as soon as we got to the last moments before they ended, I just wanted to be done. Make the break, start anew.

I could have had a leisurely morning with Data and my grandparents. I could have walked on the beach, lingered over breakfast and stopped for coffee before we got to Yale.

Instead, I was anxious to just get the part where my boyfriend had to leave over with.

We arrived on campus shortly after eleven. Data made sure my mother would get her picture of me receiving my key, and then we handed my belongings over to the campus transport crew to be brought to my room, while we walked there.

My suitemates were not home, but they'd left a note welcoming me, and explaining which bathroom shelves were mine.

Data took more pictures to be shared with my family and our friends on the _Enterprise_ : me in front of the (non-functional) fireplace in the common room. Me unpacking. Me sitting on the freshly-made bed in my room, with the print of _Tableau I_ above it. (Pictures of Data and me, one of his father, and one of Lal, were also on display, but people would understand the Mondrian.)

We placed Data's footlocker at the foot of my bed, and I smiled. It fit there perfectly.

But eventually, there was no more unpacking. My clothes were all hung or put in the dresser with android precision. My cello case was stored in my closet, and my cello placed on a stand in the corner. My comm-badge, initially despised and later worn with honor, was the hardest piece to place.

"Should I give this back to you?" I asked.

"No," Data answered. "You may find it useful if you choose to interact with the local SOAR chapter, or if you visit Wesley at the Academy. In addition, it will be better to have it with you when you next travel home."

"Okay," I said. We left my room and stood in front of the coffee table in the common room. "Okay. Then, I guess this is goodbye." I could feel tears welling in my eyes.

Data pulled me close and I rested my head against his chest for a long moment. "This is not goodbye," my partner stated firmly. "It is only goodbye-for-now. This is just another etude we must master, and I have every confidence that we will succeed."

"I love you," I told him.

"I am eternally devoted to you," Data responded. We shared a slow kiss, and then he brushed another across my hair, and then he pushed me gently away. "I must go now, dearest. I will contact you before midnight, so that you can go to bed at a reasonable hour."

I chuckled softly. "You never stop taking care of me."

"No. I never will."

We'd already decided that I wouldn't walk him back to the flitter, that I wanted my last memory of his presence to be in my room, as if his essence would remain with me.

"Okay."

One more kiss, and he was out the door.

 **(=A=)**

I kept my crying in check as long as I could, but when Margo, Chuni, and Anjali arrived home about an hour after Data left, and found me on the couch, they found me tear-stained and flipping channels on the entertainment system

"Zoe welcome, we're glad you made it." Anjali came to sit with me.

"Me, too," I said. "I'm glad to finally meet you all face to face. I'm just a little…"

Margo sat on my other side. "You said goodbye to Data, right?"

"Yeah."

"Would he want you to be sad?" she persisted. "Because when I said goodbye to my boyfriend before he left for Mars, he made me promise to have as much fun as I could."

I managed a real smile at that. "Data said I should 'experience everything open to me."

Chuni sat on the coffee table, facing us. "There's a frisbee tag game in the courtyard in an hour. I say we go experience that, and then find some pizza. Zoe, you in?"

I considered. On the one hand, I had zero interest in frisbee anything. On the other hand, it was a typical college event, and I'd promised Data – I'd promised _myself –_ that I'd build a support system, and these three women were offering that.

"I'm in," I said, standing up. "Let me just freshen up." I made haste in the bathroom and was ready in just a few minutes, but when I came out, Anjali was grinning.

"We have to do something before we leave," she said. "Everyone stand in front of the fireplace." She had a drone camera and she hovered it in front of this. "Important college ritual," she announced. "First official picture of the Davenport princesses of 2373."

We all laughed, and the drone caught us that way. Young. Carefree. Hopeful.

 **(=A=)**

Data's comm came through at 11:47 that night.

"Zoe," he greeted. "Dearest. Did you have a good afternoon?"

"Surprisingly, I said, "It was. But before I tell you about it, I have another picture for you to share with everyone." I sent him a copy of the photo Anjali had taken earlier.

We talked for a few minutes more, but I was tired, and he was still navigating extremely well-traveled space, so keeping it short was in both our interests. Before I signed off, however, I requested, "The song you sang last night… could you sing it for me again?"

Data's lips curved up in a slight smile. "Certainly."

As we each raised our hands to the monitor the way we always did when we were apart, he sang softly.

 _Kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go  
'Cause I'm leavin' on a jet plane  
Don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh babe, I hate to go…_

* * *

 **Notes:** If you haven't already read them, the one-shots _How About You? Cashew_ (M-rated), and _Eight Elastics_ take place before/during the previous chapter, "Transition – Part I." Also, I forgot to credit **Javanyet** for her phrase, "hard-wired into his neural net," in the previous chapter. The conversation with Zoe that Emily references takes place in chapter 6 of this story. I've bent the Yale calendar somewhat from what it is in contemporary times, but hey, this is fiction. Besides, starting school before Labor Day is just wrong. "Leavin' on a Jet Plane" was written by John Denver, though many have recorded it. Also, apologies for the lengthy wait for this chapter. As some of you know, my father-in-law died in May. Then I had two ligaments replaced in my left knee, as well as a meniscus trim, on July 11th – I've got one more week of physical therapy before I see my ortho again – and my stepfather (really my only father-figure) died on July 27th. It's been an intense summer.


	16. College Kids

**College Kids**

 **Stardate 46672.40**

 **(Wednesday, 3 September 2369, 10:13 AM, local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

It was my second day of classes, and the first meeting of Professor Wire-Whiskers' _Philosophy of AI_ class. I was in the first row, near the center, of the huge lecture hall. I knew the class was popular, but I hadn't expected that arriving a mere ten minutes early would force me to be so visible. Since the professor was now a personal friend – or at least a family friend – I'd hoped not to command too much attention.

At least the seats weren't assigned.

The first ten minutes after the official start time had been a flurry of schedules and making sure our padds were synchronized so we would receive the updated syllabus and reading list. Whiskers didn't acknowledge me overtly, but I saw him note that I was there.

Whiskers had been behind the podium for the administrative portion of the morning. When he came out from behind it, the lecture began:

"Good morning, class. Let's start with a question: what _is_ artificial intelligence?"

I was relieved to find that I wasn't the only person who was uncertain if we were supposed to respond.

But Whiskers continued before the silence could become awkward. "One definition is that artificial intelligence refers to an intelligence – and intelligent being – that is artificially created. Could there be such a being? At least one of you – " and he pinned me with his cat-eyed gaze " – knows that there is at least one. But if we know that artificial intelligence exists, why does the question remain interesting?"

He began to pace, his tail curling up behind him, to punctuate his words. "Here's why: if we can build an intelligent being, presumably we can understand how intelligence _works._ We can demystify intelligence itself, which, I think we can all agree, is one the most remarkable aspects of mentality."

"Now, you're all thinking, 'but we already have intelligent machines. Why are we focusing on beings?' And the reason is that by any definition, we organic beings _are_ intelligent machines. We're literally made of molecular machinery. But building an intelligent computer? Creating from computer components a truly intelligent being? That is what the field of AI is all about, and that's why so many people in the field spend their time writing programs to give computers the ability to do some - or all – of the things we associate with 'intelligence.'"

He stopped dead in front of me, but his gaze was over my head. "Alright, class," Whiskers challenged, "what are some of the abilities in question. No need to raise your hand. Just shout."

"Play games," said someone behind me. The class emitted a collective chuckle.

"Right!" Whiskers said.

"Process perceptual input to make sense of the environment," someone shouted from my left.

"Very good!"

"Understand and use language," came a third response.

"Correct!" He paused, and this time he did look right at me. "Anything else?"

"Form interpersonal relationships," I said.

"Essential," Whiskers agreed. "This is just some of what we'll be discussing over this semester," he added. And then began to expand on it.

Our class continued in the same vein until we'd used our allotted time, but I lost the thread because my head was swirling. He was talking about _intelligence_ but at the conference on Hamal IV he'd discussed the way neural networks function, and it had seemed he'd really been talking about _sentience_. There were so many questions I wanted to ask him, but I wasn't sure how to phrase my queries. And then, the person I really wanted to be discussing this with was Data.

"Now scoot," said the affable Eeiauoan, his tail twisting into a friendly spiral. "I'll see you all on Monday Be sure you've done the reading." As everyone began to gather their belongings, Whiskers took the just-vacated seat next to me. "So," he began. "Are you settling in alright?"

"It's only been two days," I said, "but so far, I'm good. My suitemates are great, my room is… well, it's not bad for a dorm, I guess."

"And my class?"

"I'm… you're a dynamic speaker," I hedged.

My inner confusion must have been outwardly apparent, because Whiskers' expression softened. "Sentience requires true self-awareness," he said. "Not just responding to input."

"How did you know I was thinking about that?"

He coiled his tail around my wrist, just like he had the first time we met. "If I were dating the only sentient android in Starfleet, it's what I would be thinking about, especially given the conversation we had when you petitioned to join this class."

"Does the rest of the class know?" I asked. "I mean… you won't tell them, right?"

"Are you and Data having problems?" his ears went into the softer position I knew reflected concern.

"No," I said. "We're good. It's just… Marvin Gratz…. Last year when I was working with the Idyllwild Troupe, I needed a therapist to help with some issues and he was recommended, and it didn't go well because… well, partly I just didn't like his confrontational style, but also, he thought Data was grooming me."

"Grooming? I'm not familiar with this term except regarding hygiene."

"Like… training me… I guess. Manipulating me into the relationship we have. We're spoiled by living on the _Enterprise_ where everyone knows him. I forget, sometimes, how it sounds when people know I was his student, and then…"

"You're worried I let you into this class as an object lesson in human-AI relationships." He wasn't asking, and he didn't seem angry. His tail remained around my wrist.

"Maybe a little," I admitted.

"I didn't. I let you in because you need six units of philosophy to graduate and while I prefer my students have Philosophy 101 as a prerequisite, you impressed me at the Hamal IV conference. I won't lie, Zoe: you're going to find this course quite challenging." His ears straightened, and his eyes crinkled a little. This, I realized, was amusement. "But I suspect you're the type who thrives on challenge. And if you get stuck, come see me during office hours. For that matter, I'll have Bright-Star arrange for you to come to the house for dinner in a week or two. Our cubs are grown, and we both miss feeding young people."

I flashed a smile as I stood up. "That's kind of you, but I don't want special treatment, really."

"It's not special treatment, Zoe. You're a friend, not merely a student." Something in his demeanor clued me in on his other reason for the invitation.

"I'm guessing you promised Data you'd watch over me?"

"You know we did."

I chuckled ruefully while shaking my head. Then I slung my messenger bag across my shoulder. "Thank you, Professor. See you Monday."

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46677.74**

 **(Friday, 5 September 2369, 9:02 AM, local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

Whether it was on a university campus or a holodeck on the _Enterprise_ , dance studios were always comforting spaces. Maybe it was the combination of sprung floors and rosin, or maybe it was just the knowledge that for the next couple of hours physicality would be the prime focus. I hadn't taken a formal dance class since I was fifteen but ending my week of classes with one seemed like just what my schedule needed, even if it had meant being dressed to move at nine in the morning.

"Welcome to _Body in Motion_ ," our instructor greeted as she padded, barefoot, into the center of the floor. "Spread out. Find a spot on the floor, and start stretching while I talk," she suggested. "We'll do a proper group warm-up, but this will give you something to do. I mean, I always get fidgety during lectures, don't you?" We all laughed softly, but we did as she asked, and she wandered among us as she continued. "My name is Zina Bustamante. You may call me Zina or Professor Bustamante. Of the two, I prefer Zina. Dance is intimate. Theatre is intimate. Music is intimate. I like to be on a first-name basis with my students."

As she spoke, she would lean over each of us, and gently correct a back that was hunched rather than curved, a leg that wasn't turned out correctly, a sideways stretch that was off-center and would likely cause injury. Then she would stand straight and toss her thick chocolate-brown braid over her shoulder and move to another student. Her voice was as fluid as her movement. Her posture and bearing - even in a black leotard, skirt, and tights - made me want to sit up straighter. I liked her immediately.

"Some of you are here in the new Performing Arts and Social Justice program, fulfilling a foundational requirement for your major. Others are here because you need a physical education credit and as dance, theatre, or music majors, dance and movement classes count. Raise your hands if you've had formal dance training before?"

About half of us signaled that we had.

"That's both good and bad," she said, her tone laced with warm humor. "It's good because your bodies will find much of what we do here familiar. It's bad because whether you're a betty bunhead or solely focused on contemporary dance, you'll have to stretch beyond what you've studied."

She paused in the center of the room. "Body. Effort. Space. Shape. These are the four fundamentals of Laban's movement analysis. It's more than dance. It's the way we use all movement to convey emotion and thought. It's a tradition of movement analysis and function that dates back to the twentieth century and has been built upon over the centuries. Pralketh of Vulcan added to the lexicon. So did Kahless, the legendary Klingon warrior, whose creation of Mok'Bara follows similar principles, albeit with a different purpose. If you've seen the New York City Ballet in performance or been to one of Dan Curry's master-classes, you know that he, also, is one of the people who has shaped Laban's original teachings into what we use today. Body. Effort. Space. Shape. Everyone on your feet. Isolations. Let's begin."

It was a sweaty three hours later that we were finally released to shower, change, and go on with our days. There were twenty of us in the class, and seven of the others were in my program, with two in my concentration – theatre. Marco was a sophomore, also in Davenport college, and had never taken dance before. Fallon was in my year and seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place her.

"I know you!" she announced, coming up to me as I was collecting my things. "You're Zoe." I expected her to share that she'd seen me and Data in the press or caught a performance when I was on Earth with Idyllwild the year before. "We have Theatre Lit together on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

I was immediately relieved. "I thought I'd seen you somewhere," I admitted, "but I couldn't think where."

"It's all so new, isn't it?" she asked. "Do you have another class right away? I was going to run back to my room and change, and then grab lunch. Wanna join? I'm in Durfee." She gave her room number and I responded with mine.

"Oooh, we have a Morsel and a Gnome Princess in the room!" Marco came to join us. "Alright little chickadees, are you tied to the concept of the dining hall, or would you like to venture off campus? I feel the need to introduce you to the unofficial theatre hangout. Have you been to The New Moon yet?"

Fallon and I met each other's eyes, and then turned to Marco. "No. Is it good?" I asked.

"It's cozy. Better on rainy days, because the fireplace works. Go shower. Meet me in half an hour in front of Durfee's. Unless you have afternoon classes, in which case I will slum with you and eat at one of the dining halls."

In truth, the dining halls all had the same menu, and the food was pretty good – at least as good as the fare on the _Enterprise_ , and better when you considered it wasn't replicated. As to Durfee's - Marco was referring to the convenience kiosk rather than the residence hall, though the one was located within the other. Part café, part replimat, it was one of the places on campus where you could grab anything from hot chocolate to feminine hygiene products, and up to a certain number of credits could be offset by your meal plan.

"I am class-free," I said, warming to the idea of lunch off campus. "Fallon?"

"I'm free also. See you both in half an hour."

And so, we dispersed, temporarily, to peel off sweaty dancewear and take quick showers – one of the few times in my life I was grateful for sonics.

 **(=A=)**

Clean and dressed in jeans and the Hard Rock Café Shi-Kahr t-shirt that Data had given me for Christmas two years before, I left my room to meet my new dance buddies. Marco was already there, along with Gavin, one of the Davenport First Year Counselors known as FroCos. These were seniors who volunteered to reside in the freshman dorms and act as peer advisors. It was one of the ways Yale used its residential college system to make students feel like they were part of a community, and while the digital orientation I'd gone through had been informative, I knew I'd missed making connections with some of the people I might need to rely on at some point.

Gavin, however, had sent a note asking if he could escort me to dinner on the first night of classes, to make sure I was welcomed into the Davenport family.

"Zoe," he greeted, "hey. I see you survived your first week. Marco says he's taking you and one of the first-year Morsels to New Moon. Mind if I tag along? My girlfriend works there."

I shrugged. "Sure, why not. I was told it's a theatre hangout, though?" I glanced at Marco for confirmation. "Do they let poli-sci majors in?"

"What is politics but theatre on a grand scale?" Gavin asked, and in so doing, made me certain I liked him. After all, I'd used the same argument in a conversation with… someone on the _Enterprise_ … Deanna, maybe? I couldn't remember.

"Alright th – " my reply was interrupted by Fallon's hurried arrival.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. My roommate had her boyfriend in our room and wouldn't let me in!"

"Oh, honey, so sorry. My roommate used to do that, first year. We were in the twelve-pack, in a double, and there were nights I literally slept on the couch in our common room."

Fallon took a few cleansing breaths. "Sharing a room sucks. I mean, at home I had to share a room with my sister, but it was bigger, and we never brought boys upstairs."

"You have to set ground rules," Gavin said.

"I guess." Fallon seemed like the type who didn't like confrontation.

"Talk to one of your FroCos if you need help or support. It's why we're here."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll do that."

"Can we continue this over lunch?" Marco asked then. "I mean, I could stand here all day, but Zoe is clearly starving."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, it's like I haven't eaten in… hours."

"New Moon is this way."

Marco had been correct, the café we entered would have been even better on a dismal, rainy day, but even on a still-warm September afternoon it was the perfect way to cap off my first week of classes. The front doors were painted blue and set into brick walls with bay windows on either side. Inside everything was natural wood and the windows were lined with cushions. One of them was occupied by a couple in intense conversation.

The rest of the space was sort of Irish Pub meets Victorian Library in tone. A fireplace big enough to walk into dominated one wall, there was a bar where you could watch the baristas working with a truly ancient espresso machine – one that seemed to be made of brass, copper, and blind faith – and the tables, while pitted with age, were clean, and not so heavy that you couldn't push them together if you had a large group.

The walls were filled with photographs – some were production stills, some were performers - all from Yale productions.

"Wow," I breathed.

"Told you," Marco said.

"Do we order at the bar?" I asked.

"Naah, they do table service. Come on, I'll introduce you to the group." He led us through the tables – some empty, some occupied, until we got to the corner booth tucked next to the fireplace. The table was round, and there were already several people sitting at it. "Scooch over people, we have baby Yalies to welcome," he greeted.

There was a flurry of consolidation and the adding of additional chairs. I ended up sitting at the end of the book, with Fallon and Marco in chairs next to me. Gavin had gone to the bar to chat with his girlfriend.

"Everyone, meet Zoe and Fallon. They're PASJ students, like me, theatre concentration. Zoe and Fallon, meet Deb, Jordan, V'mir, Catherine, and Steve."

Each of the five nodded or waved a hand as Marco listed their names. Steve, grinned and said, "Boola, Boola!" Then he added, "Order first, tell us who you are, after. Menu's on the board," he pointed to a hanging display above the fireplace. "The burgers – meat or veggie – are always excellent, the soup is usually good, especially on Fridays. Friday is clam chowder day."

As if she was prescient, instead of merely observant, a server came up to us, and asked what we wanted. I'd been craving a proper cheeseburger since Data and I had originally left the _Enterprise_ over a month before, so I took the opportunity to order one, with fries and an iced tea. Marco followed suit. Fallon chose a salad.

"Alright, who's first? Fallon, you go." That was from Deb, who had been reading from a padd, but turned it off and set it behind her.

"Fallon Gilani," she said. "I'm from Tehran, went to an all-girls school. We did a service semester on one of the outer colonies, and I fell in love with theatre and storytelling as a form of therapy."

"Which college?"

"Morse," she said.

"And Zoe?" V'Mir looked Vulcan, but I wasn't certain of it. She wore her hair loose and long, instead of in the traditional short cut.

"Oh, I'm a 'fleet brat, mostly," I said, not sure how much to share. "Grew up on Centaurus, but Mom got posted to the _Enterprise_ and made me go there with her when I was fifteen. I've been into music and theatre for as long as I can remember." I hesitated for a few seconds, then went all in. "Spent last summer and fall on tour with the Idyllwild troupe, and spent most of this summer doing Shakespeare on Winter."

The man who'd been introduced as Jordan observed, "So, you're a pro. You Equity?" I nodded, and he went on. "That's gonna make things difficult for you as a first year."

"It is?"

"Yeah, some of the teachers are going to assume you have lots of bad habits to break, and they'll ride you harder. And getting cast will be difficult since the school will have to ask Equity for permission for you to do unpaid work."

"Even though it's school?"

"Yeah. But don't worry. You'll get through it." He grinned, "I did."

I stared at him for a long moment, taking in the blue eyes, curly blond mop of hair, and affable smile. "Oh my god, you're Jordan Morris."

"From 'Just Jordan,' yup."

Our food was delivered then, and the three of us tucked in while everyone else ordered refreshes of their drinks. Catherine glanced around as we were eating, and said, "Alright then, let's make sure Zoe and Fallon know all the important theatre-hacks for life at Yale."

And so, we spent a pleasant afternoon learning the unofficial secrets – where the best breakfast was, which coffee cart had the strongest mocha, how to maximize your lunch allowance – and the tips only upperclassmen could share – which professors were cool, what performing groups took freshman – a whole litany of things.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46682.16**

 **(Saturday, 6 September 2369, 11:47 PM, local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

My first Saturday night at Yale was totally anti-climactic. The guys in the first floor 12-pack – a collection of twelve rooms with interlocking common spaces – were having a party, but I'd done my thing with cheap booze when I was fifteen, and I wasn't really interested in repeating the experience.

My suitemates – Anjali, Margo and Chuni – invited me to check it out with them just for the experience, but I'd promised them that I wasn't being snobby, I just wasn't in the mood. The truth was, watching them choose outfits and makeup made me wistful for date nights on the _Enterprise._

The comm-unit in my room came to life on the dot of midnight. I wish I could have given my partner credit for being prescient, but we'd scheduled the call, which was the other reason I'd skipped the party. The screen glowed blue before displaying first the Yale logo, then the Starfleet sigil, then, finally resolving into the gold-leaf features of the face I most wanted to see.

"Data!" I might have sounded a tad desperate.

 _"Zoe, dearest. Are you well?"_

I sighed. "Well enough, I guess. I mean, I'm settling into classes, I've made some friends, I've unpacked everything, but I miss you." I made a face and grumbled. "I hate sleeping alone."

 _"I miss you also,"_ he said, his tone as calm as ever. _"And I am certain I will also miss our nighttime routine, though I only made my rendezvous with the_ _ **Enterprise**_ _yesterday."_

"I thought you were supposed to be there two days ago?" I said. Normally, we'd have been exchanging daily messages even if they were just minute-long status updates _Miss you, doing fine, keep safe, love you,_ etc. But he'd been in transit all week, and the comm system on the _Calypso_ didn't have the reach of the systems at school or on the _Enterprise._

 _"The rendezvous point changed. We are currently docked at the Remmler Array. In the morning, we will be evacuating to Arkaria Base while the ship undergoes a procedure to eliminate excess baryon particles."_

"Is that routine? I don't remember us ever being evacuated before?"

 _"It is typical for long-range vessels to be swept for baryon every three years. You missed our initial sweep by three months. Your mother never mentioned it?"_

I knew my expression was slightly sheepish. "Even if she had, I wasn't really paying attention to anything Starfleet related back then. And she really only ever told me about the things she found exciting. I heard about it every time a new culture was encountered – well, when the information wasn't classified. So, how long does a baryon sweep take?"

 _"The evacuation process typically takes longer than the procedure itself. I suspect we will be underway again in two or three days. I have planned a social experiment for the duration of our time on base."_

"A social experiment?" I was both interested and amused. "Do tell?"

 _"Our recent attendance at Bruce Maddox's wedding and at the party hosted by your grandparents has made me aware of the tendency to converse about inconsequential subjects during social engagements."_

"Inconsequential subj – " I cut myself off as realization hit. "You're doing an experiment with _small talk_?"

 _"I am. Or rather, I will be,"_ he confirmed. _"It is not a skill I have ever developed and as our life together will likely include many such events, I believe it will be useful."_

I nodded in agreement, but what I said was, "Say that bit again… about our life?"

 _"Our life together will - "_ He stopped. _"May I assume that you were not being entirely honest with me, when you said you were 'well enough?'"_

I inhaled deeply and let my breath out slowly. "I'm not unwell, truly," I assured him. "It's just… there's a party down on the first floor tonight, and everyone wanted me to go but I bowed out. I just didn't feel into it. I've _done_ the rowdy party and underage drinking thing."

 _"How do you know that is what will occur?"_

"It's a college party in the guys' dorm, Data. What _else_ would be going on?"

 _"I do not recall such events at Starfleet Academy. Perhaps I was simply not included."_

"Or, maybe, it's because the academy has a different culture. Uniforms and rules and all that."

 _"Your university also has rules."_

"Yeah, but not nearly as many." I took a breath. "So, I've now had at least one session of each of my classes. Do you want to hear about them?"

 _"I would."_

"So, Monday and Wednesdays I have Whiskers' class in the morning, and Theatre Literature in the afternoon. Whiskers spent the first session asking what abilities were important in creating an artificial intelligence, but I was confused because a lot of what he was talking about seemed to describe sentience, and I realized I should have been asking you a lot more questions, because I'm not entirely sure I understand the difference."

 _"I am certain Whiskers will provide clarification, but if you wish me to do so instead, I will gladly provide assistance."_ He paused for a few seconds, and when he spoke again, his tone was gentler, more intimate _. "I suspect, dearest, that you have 'picked up' a significant amount of knowledge just from our association. Must_ _ **I**_ _remind_ _ **you**_ _that our relationship is only that, and not a scientific experiment for either of us?"_ He put a teasing note in his words.

"I just… I feel like I'm failing you by not being more active about… stuff."

 _"You are not 'failing' me, Zoe. I have noticed that you prefer to assimilate a significant quantity of information, and spend time processing it, before asking for deeper explanations. When you require specific data, you are always articulate. Did we not have a detailed discussion about my sexuality programming during our vacation? Please do not worry about this."_ He took another beat, then changed tacks. _"What are your other classes? You had not finalized your schedule when I left."_

"Tuesdays and Thursdays are Theatre and Social History in the morning, and Calculus for Liberal Arts in the afternoon. Don't mock, it meets my math requirement for graduation credits, even if it's likely to be a lot more basic than what you taught us."

 _"I was under the impression that you were going to avoid mathematics during your first semester."_

"One of the FroCos – that's freshman counselors – suggested I might want to just get it over with, so I don't have to squeeze it in later. I only have one class on Fridays – but it's a three-hour movement class - Body in Motion." I explained what the class was, and added, "It counts toward my major and as a physical education credit, and it's nice to end the week doing something physical. I know, what you are going to say: I should take one more course since I have the time. We have another week of shopping… where you can attend any class you want and see if you like it… there are a couple I might look into, but I also like having long weekends."

 _"You are mistaken in your belief that I would suggest adding to your course load, Zoe. May I ask: do you see me primarily as a taskmaster?"_

"No. I see you primarily as the man I'm madly in love with. And someone I don't want to disappoint. And with that, we've taken this conversation full circle. I'm sorry, Data, I just… I miss you. Everything is new and different and weird." I lowered my voice, even though I knew none of my suitemates were home. "And I'm antsy. I miss… I was going to say I miss sex, and that's true, but, it's more than that. I miss just _touching_ you. Snuggling while we watch a video, or just existing in the same space while we each work on different things."

 _"The 'newness' and 'weirdness' will wear off in time, Zoe. And you know you may contact me as often as you require."_

"I know."

 _"I also miss your presence. Spot is not a good partner for sing-a-longs, nor does she provide your unique perspective on social – or professional – events."_

I laughed softly. "Flatterer."

 _"No, Zoe. I am merely speaking the truth."_ His expression changed slightly, grew more intense. _"Were I attempting to flatter you, I would remind you that your hair is a constant source of intrigue for me, and that your scent is as close to intoxicating as possible. I would tell you that I retain the flavor of your kisses and the lingering touch of your fingers on my skin. I would…"_

"Data, stop!" I was half-aroused and half-frustrated, and both were seasoned with amused affection. "I'm sorry, it's just… telling me this when we can't _do anything_ about it is almost cruel."

Immediately he became his more even-keeled self. _"I apologize, dearest."_

"It's okay. I know what you were trying to do, it's just… I can't even take a _bath._ "

 _"Perhaps you should try swimming."_

"Excuse me?"

 _"I am certain one of the brochures we viewed included a catalogue of Yale's athletic and health facilities. Swimming has always been relaxing for you. You may not have access to a bathtub, but you do have access to more than one pool."_

"You're doing the being-right thing again," I said with a smile. "Is it weird that when you do that, it makes me feel more secure? Like, it means that all's right with the world. Well, with my world anyway."

Data favored me with the slight smile that was mine alone. _"It is not weird, Zoe. It is simply us."_

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Okay, so tell me: is Spot glad to be home? And did you find the gift I left for you?"

He turned away from the screen, then turned back wearing the item I'd had delivered to the _Calypso_ before he'd departed: a Yale University poker visor. _"I found it. And I look forward to wearing it during the next poker game."_

"You really will?"

 _"I really will."_

"I expect a full report on everyone's reactions."

 _"And you will receive one. You will also receive a delivery on Monday."_

It took me a minute to realize the significance of the day in question. "You don't have to send anything," I said. "I mean… I'm not all edgy like I was last year. No promises that I won't freak out next Valentine's Day, but…"

 _"Zoe, we have had many discussions about when we began dating, but I believe that the change in our relationship became irrevocable on September 8_ _th_ _, two years ago. I wish to mark it for you – for_ _ **us**_ _\- to remind you that something good came out of your encounters with my brother."_

" _You_ said you thought we would have ended up together, anyway."

 _"I did. However, that belief does not alter the reality that our first kiss accelerated that trajectory."_

"All things considered, it wasn't a bad kiss." I grew wistful. "And I liked that you put your hand on my waist. That contact… it was like a circuit closing."

 _"Yes,"_ Data said, _"it was."_ I wasn't sure if he meant that he'd felt it also, or that an actual circuit had closed somewhere inside himself.

"So, I'll comm you Monday night and let you know I received whatever you've sent, if that's alright?"

 _"Hearing from you is always 'alright.'"_

"Sweet talker," I flirted. But then I heard the door to our suite open followed by the door to the bathroom and the unmistakable sound of retching. "At least one of my suitemates has returned and is worshipping the porcelain god," I said. "I should go offer to hold her hair or something."

 _"Perhaps you were wise to stay home, after all,"_ Data responded. Was it wrong that I was slightly disappointed that he didn't need a translation of my slang? _"I will speak with you on Monday,"_ He lifted has hand to the monitor, and I matched it with mine, as we always did. _"I am devoted to you."_

I grinned. "I love you, too. G'night, Data."

 _"Goodnight, Zoe. Data out."_

I sat there for a moment just holding the sound of his voice inside me. Then I went to check on whichever of the other women I lived with had not been able to hold her booze.

 **(=A=)**

I knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, are you okay? It's Zoe."

"No." I didn't know my suitemates well enough to identify which of them it was with a single word.

"Do you need help?"

" _Can_ you help?" It was Anjali.

"Well," I said, "I can't make your stomach better, but I can hold your hair, or get you a cool cloth for your face."

"Come in," she groaned.

She hadn't locked the door, so I pushed it open and joined her in the black-and-white tiled space. I snagged one of the washcloths from her shelf and wet it with cold water, then knelt beside her. "Which do you want first?" I asked. "Hair or cloth?"

She turned her head to look up at me, and I saw how sweaty her face was. "Clot – no hair!" And she heaved into the toilet again, while I pulled her hair back from her face. "Will this ever stop?"

"Yes."

"Really."

"I promise." I hesitated. "I'm guessing you didn't realize you weren't drinking synthehol?"

She rocked back onto her heels, waited a moment, then sat down all the way and crossed her legs, lotus-style. "I didn't realize the punch was spiked at all. My family doesn't keep alcohol in the house, and it didn't occur to me that 'jungle juice' might not just be juice, or that it wouldn't combine well with nachos." I handed her the wet cloth. At first, she dabbed gingerly at her face, then she swabbed all the sweat away.

"Better?"

"I think so. I'm glad you were home."

"Me, too. No one should have to puke without someone to hold their hair." I kept my tone light.

"You sound like you have experience with this."

"Oh, tons," I said. I joined her on the floor, sitting with my back to the door. "One of the reasons I was living on the _Enterprise_ at all is that I was a little out of control back on Centaurus. Over Christmas break, before I turned fifteen, I went to a part on the beach where we were drinking kamikazes." At her blank look, I explained. "It's when everyone snags a bottle from their parents' liquor stash and you mix it all together. Makes jungle juice look tame. Anyway, an older boy was trying to get me to hook up with him, and another friend stopped him before anything could happen. But my parents were understandably displeased, so Mom dragged me into outer space."

"Wow, Zoe, I didn't know you were such a wild child." She wasn't teasing… well, not entirely.

"I had a lot going on that year," I said. "Mom was on the ship and kept taking longer and longer between visits home. Dad was sleeping with my au pair. Gran was yelling at him about being responsible. And I was in the middle. I don't do that anymore. I promise."

"Is that why you didn't come to the party?"

"Partly. But partly it's because I had a subspace date with Data I didn't want to miss."

"What's it like, living with your boyfriend?"

I took a beat to formulate a response. "It's nice," I said. "I know that sounds lame, but… it's nice. He brings me coffee in bed most mornings, and I remind him not to work through the night when it's not an emergency. We share our days with each other. We play with our cat. We play music together. And we don't have to worry about whether it's date night or being home at a specific time. I mean, he has to report for scheduled duty shifts, and I sometimes freak out a little when he's on away missions, but… It's nice. It's right."

Anjali laughed. "Are you _sure_ you're only eighteen?"

My laughter mingled with her. "Positive. I mean… I worry that people will look at us oddly because he's so much older. And then there's the whole android thing."

"Is it rude if I ask what that's like?"

"No." I echoed something Data had once said to me. "You're not asking 'just to ask,' you're asking because we're becoming friends."

She smiled, then her eyes went wide as if she thought she might have to puke again, but she re-settled. "So, what is it like?"

"It's… well, actually most of the issues in our relationship have to do with the difference in our ages and positions, and normal male/female stuff than the fact that he's an android. Once you get to know him, he's more of a guy than you'd expect. In the beginning, he didn't always get my snark, but now… he's this solid, supportive presence in my life. He's an excellent listener, he never forgets important occasions, or even personal preferences." I grinned wickedly. "He's amazing in bed."

"Amazing?"

"Imagine having a partner who always puts your needs first, is open to loving experimentation, and never gets tired."

"Oh, my gods. Zoe, you are one lucky woman."

I laughed. "Yeah. Yeah I am." I took a beat then asked, "So what about you? Is there a boyfriend back home?"

I knew she was feeling better when a chuckle accompanied her blush. "Sadly, there is not. I've dated a bit, had a fine upstanding young man – my parents' words – take me to prom – but… mostly my friends and I go on group outings. None of us have coupled up."

"Well, lots of people met their lifetime loves in college," I teased. "But it's okay if you don't too." I glanced at the time display embedded in the bathroom mirror and noticed that it read two-thirty in the morning. "Do you have any idea where Margo and Chuni are?"

"Yes and no," Anjali said. "I thought we were going to the party together, but Chuni's boyfriend from Luna Colony is also at school on Earth – at Princeton – and he appeared at the party. And Margo… the last I remember is a bunch of people – guys and girls – drinking shots out of her navel."

And I'd been worried I would be the wild one.

"Wow. Well, I hope she's safe. The FroCos monitor these things to a point, don't they?"

"They're supposed to, yes." She yawned then. "I'm sorry, I'm getting sleepy."

"Alcohol can do that," I said, getting to my feet. "But it also dehydrates you. Drink a big glass of water or replicate some mint tea before you collapse, and if you're up to it, we can go to brunch together before I hit the pool."

"You swim?"

"Swim. Surf. Sail. My parents say I'm half-mermaid," I said. "You can come with me to the pool, if you want. I just want to get a rec pass to swim laps. Burn off some energy."

"I'll think about the pool," Anjali said. I offered her a hand up, and she took it. "And I'll definitely join you at brunch. Eleven-thirty."

"Or twelve if you need the extra half-hour."

"No. Eleven-thirty," she said firmly. We exited the bathroom and headed toward our individual bedrooms. "And thanks, Zoe. For being a friend. I owe you one."

I wanted to protest that she didn't, but she was in her room with the door closed before I could.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46687.24**

 **(Monday, 8 September 2369, 8:14 PM, local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

I woke on Monday morning feeling only excitement. Data had promised a delivery of some kind, and I was eager to learn what he'd sent. I was betting on flowers, but I wasn't sure. He'd given me jewelry on more than one special occasion.

More than that, though, Anjali and I had hit the pool after brunch the day before. She wasn't as strong a swimmer as I was, but I was out of practice, so we did laps for an hour, and then went to one of my favorite places on Earth (or Mars, or Centaurus): a branch of Red Sands Coffee that was only three blocks off campus.

"Alright, Zoe," my new friend had said, "I can see why this place appeals to you." She chose a fruit smoothie while I had a mocha, but we both loved the natural light coming in from the windows, and the local art hanging on the walls.

We'd spent the rest of the day hanging out in our common room, alternately reading for classes and chatting, and absolutely _not_ judging Margo for slinking home in the middle of the afternoon with what was obviously a killer headache. "Hydration helps," Anjali advised her, and giggled at the blonde girl's glare.

Chuni had comm'd first thing in the morning, apologizing for worrying us. The four of us went to dinner together and made an agreement that we'd always have each other's backs whether it came to parties or guys or classwork.

"We don't have to all be best friends," Chuni said. "But we share a living space. If we don't look out for each other, who will?"

Of course, I had to spoil the somber moment by giggling and declaring, "Princesses of Davenport, unite!"

But my suitemates gave into the moment and echoed my cheer, much to the curiosity of a lot of the other students in the dining hall.

That moment of bonding extended to the next morning, when the three of them bounded into my room before I'd even silenced my wake-up alarm.

"Oh, Zoe, you have a delivery!" Margo announced, as she and the others swarmed my bed. Anjali was carrying said delivery: A basket with dried sunflowers, bars of chocolate, a few wrapped gifts, and an envelope with my name on it.

"You _have_ to open it. We _demand_ to know who's sending you things."

"Oh, I know who sent it," Anjali said. "It's from Data… isn't it?"

I grinned and sat up straighter in bed. "Okay, hand over the card, please?"

Inside was a note – it wasn't in Data's handwriting, as he'd dictated it to the delivery service, but it was in his voice: _My Zoe, two years ago today we shared our first kiss, and our friendship became_ _ **more**_ _. Several weeks months ago, you gifted me with a dream journal, suggesting that writing things 'by hand' may be a helpful practice. While you have made it clear that you are skeptical about the habit of keeping personal logs, I wish to repay the gesture in kind. As well, as you have often given me the gift of experiences, I wish to help you collect memories. The journal is for writing your thoughts. I have supplied a pen, but you may wish to purchase a different style or weight. The digital recording device will capture both still images and video recordings. And while I cannot be with you to ensure that you have your morning coffee before presenting yourself to others, I can assist you in the process: please find a coffee card for Red Sands. I am certain you have already discovered the closest branch. This will be refilled as necessary from my account. It is my hope, my dearest, that these things will aid in your transition. I hope you will share some of what you write and record with me, but please understand that you are under no obligation to do so. As ever, I am devoted to you. Yours, Data._

The four of us tore open the sheer blue-green plastic wrapped around the basket and pulled out the packages: a vintage paper-bound journal and pen, a recorder, and the coffee card.

Anjali and Chuni were practically swooning and Margo seemed impressed, though she teased, "So, coffee's on you this morning, yeah?"

"If we can all be ready in fifteen minutes, sure. Otherwise we'll be late for class."

"Deal!" Margo said and dashed out of my room. My other suitemates left also, and I set my basket on the floor, and recorded a message to Data, thanking him, while I got dressed.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46694.12**

 **(Thursday, 11 September 2369, 8:30 AM, local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

Generally speaking, a call coming in before nine in the morning meant that something was wrong, so when I blearily answered my pinging comm-unit and noted that the origin was San Francisco, I immediately assumed something had happened to Mom or Ed.

The fact that it was Dr. Beverly Crusher's smiling face on my screen made me think something horrible had happened to Data, and that she was on Earth to bring the news personally.

Something of what I was feeling must have registered on my puffy, not-quite-awake face, because her expression sobered instantly. _"Zoe, I'm sorry to call so early._ _ **Nothing's wrong**_ _."_

I let out a breath of relief that I hadn't been aware I was holding. "Sorry," I said, "I'm not really awake until I've had coffee, and my first class isn't 'til ten." I took a beat. "Wait isn't it even earlier for you, though?"

 _"It's five-thirty here,"_ she said, _"I'm in San Francisco visiting Wes, and I've been invited to observe morning report at six."_

"Six _AM_?"

 _"That's the one."_

"I thought the morning-person thing was just Data being Data. I didn't realize it was drilled into all of you."

 _"Most of us get over it once we're billeted,"_ she laughed. _"But I'm not calling to discuss morning routines. As I said, I'm visiting Wesley, and I was wondering if you could spare time for a meal next Monday or Tuesday."_

"My classes are over by fifteen-hundred," I said, falling back into military time, out of habit. "But you don't have to come all the way here just so see me."

 _"It's not about having to, Zoe. It's about wanting to."_

"I suppose it has nothing to do with a certain second officer we both know wanting assurance that I'm hale and hearty?"

 _"Well, that, too,"_ she admitted. _"So, Monday? Tuesday?"_

"Either one is fine, but I'm less likely to feel overwhelmed by homework on Monday. If you have the time, you could come early enough to tour Yale and then go to dinner. The rare book library here is built of translucent marble and if you're inside at sunset it's spectacular."

 _"Color me intrigued,"_ she said. _"Will sixteen hundred hours give you enough time to decompress?"_

"Definitely," I said. "Meet me at my dorm. Welch Hall… " and I gave her the address and directions.

 _"Alright, Zoe. See you Monday."_ She signed off, and I sat there for a moment. I _could_ have snatched another fifteen minutes of sleep, but once I'm awake, I'm typically awake for a while, so I began my morning routine a little early, and went to the dining hall for a hot breakfast instead of my usual coffee and bagel.

I ran into Fallon, who had the same morning class as me, and we chose to share a table. A couple of the other students from our class – Theatre and Social History – joined us, including Felix, who was from Paris, and greeted us by complaining about the coffee.

"You would think with a global society and the ability to replicate any blend, there would be no such thing as bad coffee, but alas, it is not true," he said, melodramatically stirring cream into his mug and then tapping the spoon on the rim with a flourish.

"There _is_ decent coffee," I pointed out. "But you have to go off-campus to get it. Red Sands is good. So is Claire's." Claire's had existed, in some form or another, since the twentieth century, and had been known for their decadent pastries for almost as long. As far as anyone knew, there had never been an actual Claire, but no one seemed to care as long as the cakes were good.

"Red Sands?" Felix seemed to perk up. "Close to campus?"

"Three blocks outside the main gates."

"You are a goddess," Felix announced. "A coffee goddess."

I laughed. "You know, I'm good with that."

We spent the rest of breakfast just getting to know each other – the three of us – and then we went to learn about the social significance of drama during the Renaissance.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46705.93**

 **(Monday, 15 September 2369, 4:00 PM local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

"Oh, my god, _this_ is a dorm room?" Dr. Crusher, dressed much like I was in a sweater, jeans, and chunky boots, spun around in the common room of my suite, acting as if she were my older sister or favorite aunt, and not the chief medical officer of Starfleet's flagship. "I think I'm officially jealous," she added. "How about I stay here and get another degree and you go back to the _Enterprise_?"

"Tempting," I said, even though we both knew she was teasing. "Except for that pesky thing where I know nothing about medicine."

"Oh… that," she said. Then she grew more serious. "Really, Zoe, this is nothing like what I was expecting. I think of college dorms as being like the academy – long corridors of doors to single rooms, with tiny common areas at each end."

She'd described the Academy dorms as I remembered them from my tour there the summer before my junior year, when I'd been in San Francisco attending arts camps.

"Well, not every suite is this awesome," I confessed. "I lucked out getting this. They call it a princess suite. I have three suitemates – Anjali, Chuni, and Margo – and we each have our own bedroom and share this living room."

She began to walk around, exploring the space, pausing to look at print of _Tableau I_ that I'd moved out of my room and hung over the fireplace, at my friends' request. (I'd moved the picture of me and Data to the position above my bed.) "Does this work?"

"It's got a holographic interface and they built a heat vent into it, but, they won't let us have open flame. Do you blame them?"

"Not really. I've seen this print before…"

"Data and I have a copy in our quarters. Actually, he gave this copy to me last summer, and we originally hung it in my room, but my friends decided it should be in the communal space, and I think it looks pretty awesome there."

"I want to see your room," she said. "If that's alright? And then I'm dying to see this library…"

I gave her a tour of my personal space, and the rest of the suite, pointing so she knew which room belonged to each of my suitemates, and then we went on a brief tour of the Old Campus… I showed her the rare book library, the statue of Theodore Woolsey (she opted _not_ to rub his toe), and various other spaces that I'd come to know in my first two weeks.

We stopped at the good coffee kiosk to get salted cocoa – there was just enough nip in the air to warrant it – and sat on one of the many benches to people-watch while drinking them. If I felt a bit awkward being just social with her, she ignored my nervousness, and talked about her own college days.

"You didn't go to the Academy for your undergraduate degree?"

She shook her head. "Oh, I did. But in the medical school you can do two semesters at other universities, for broader experience. I spent one in Boston, and one on Vulcan."

"Could you get more different?" I couldn't help the snark.

She laughed. "Well, Pacifica would have been more extreme than Boston, but… anyway, I hated the desert heat, but I loved the New England autumns. I love my life on the _Enterprise,_ but nothing compares to the change of seasons on Earth."

"This year will be my first time experiencing that," I said. "I mean I was here the summer before the one that just passed, and the one before that, and Dad brought us here on a skiing trip once, but, I mostly only know the season changes on Centaurus. From what I've been told it's much more dramatic here. I'm looking forward to it."

Dr. Crusher flashed a smile that was affectionate but not maternal. "Enjoy it, Zoe. Every minute of it. Not because you want to make your parents proud, or because you don't want to disappoint Data, but because you deserve to have this time in your life. Everyone does."

We'd avoided talking about Data to that point, except in reference to the Mondrian print, and I was quick to steer the subject away from my partner. "Did you give this same advice to Wes?"

Her smile faded somewhat. "No, I didn't. Wes is in a different place. Frankly, I'm a little worried about him."

"Because he came for a visit and didn't want to spend all his time with his mother?"

"No," she stood up, walked to the trash receptacle and disposed of her apparently empty coffee cup. Taking her cue, I drained the last of my coffee and got rid of my cup as well. "No," she repeated. "You and Wesley were never close, were you? The way you were with the others in Data's class?"

"He's two years older than I am," I pointed out. "We weren't in all the same classes, so we didn't spend as much time together, and we both… we both kind of felt like you and my mother were pushing us together, when we had zero chemistry."

"Were we?" she mused. "I suppose we were. Emily and I are good friends. Can you blame us?"

"Not now. But then? It was kind of annoying."

"I'm sorry," she was laughing again. "Oh, Zoe, I'm so sorry."

"It's all good. We… we talk sometimes. We went to dinner a few times when I was at Idyllwild. After that flight crew accident… it was a difficult year for him." The angle of the sun had changed, and the late-summer nip became a proper chill. "Can we continue this chat somewhere warmer?"

"Oh, god!" The doctor was beginning to feel as though she was a favorite aunt and not a medical professional. "Of course, we can. I'm sorry. Are you hungry enough to eat? Is there a place you're in love with, yet, or should we pick something that looks interesting?"

"Claire's is good, but their specialty is dessert. Tate's has excellent food, but they're a steakhouse and not open on Mondays. Fong Wo's makes a fantastic Mongolian Beef. I'd love to show you The New Moon, but it's more of a college pub than a proper restaurant. Food's basic, but good. The theatre crew hangs out there."

The doctor smiled at me. "Since it's my treat, let's go somewhere indulgent. Do you eat seafood?"

"I live for sushi," I said. "But I like it cooked, too. You know I grew up on the water, right?"

"Actually, I didn't know that."

"Mom never said?" That surprised me. "I guess she likely wouldn't have, since she and Dad were going through the worst of their… stuff… when she was assigned to the _Enterprise._ Oh! Shell and Bones. It's an oyster bar with views of the harbor, and it _is_ open on Mondays."

"Well, then," Dr. Crusher said, "shall we?"

"Sure…"

 **(=A=)**

The thing about college towns is that even the most expensive restaurants are pretty flexible on dress codes, and since it was Monday our lack of a reservation wasn't a problem. Also, it was pretty early for dinner.

We were seated at table overlooking the water and I immediately became awkward, which the good doctor picked up on. "Zoe… something wrong?"

"I don't… you're my mother's friend, and my friend's mother, but you're also Data's colleague, and I'm not sure… I haven't even addressed you by name all night, because it feels weird calling you 'Doctor' off the ship, but…"

"You use Will and Deanna's names. And Geordi's," she pointed out. "You're not a child anymore Zoe, and while I am your mother's friend, I think it's okay if we're friends, too. I've always believed every young woman needs an older female friend who _isn't_ her parent." She smiled her friendliest smile. "Besides, you're Data's…"

"Girlfriend," I suggested. "Partner. Either are fine; both are accurate. My stepmother referred to him as my _beau_ the first time he came to the house, and now it's kind of a family joke."

"Partner, then," she said. "He doesn't use our names without it being meaningful, but you should."

I smiled, "I know. It's just how he is." I picked up the menu – they had old-fashioned printed ones – and asked. "So, Beverly, what are your thoughts on ceviche?"

 **(=A=)**

Dinner was fabulous. We shared the ceviche, had cups of clam chowder, and then I had seared scallops and she had ginger salmon.

"Fresh fish is one of the other things I really miss on the ship," she told me as we were eating our entrees. "Our replicators are good, and Guinan works magic with them, but… something ineffable is always missing."

"I thought it was just me," I said. "Mom and Dad are old-school. Both their houses _have_ replicators but they both prefer to cook. My grandparents on Earth don't have anything fancier than instant hot water, and Gran didn't have a replicator til Dad and Zane made her get one as a concession to old age."

"Grandparents on Earth… you didn't grow up here?"

"No. Mom was always on assignments – missions – I'm never sure what the right word is – and Dad and Gran live on Centaurus. Mostly I grew up in Beach Haven, and Gran's farm. Really, after I turned ten, Gran raised me more than my parents did."

"I was raised by my grandmother, too," Beverly shared. "On Caldos. She was a healer and I became a doctor because of her."

"Well, I'm afraid I'm disappointing Gran and my parents by not following in any of their footsteps. I mean… I did audition for The Martian, and I got in, but… I wanted something broader."

"Data says you're doing a program on performing arts and social justice?"

"I am," I said. "It's an interdisciplinary program. I'd originally been thinking about something more traditional – pre-law or poli-sci."

"Politics and law, Zoe? Really?"

"I might have been influenced by living on the flagship for almost three years."

The doc – _Beverly_ – laughed. "Maybe a little. But, you didn't consider the Academy?"

"Mom used to tell me to at least consider it. But… no offense… rules and uniforms are _not_ my thing."

"I never thought they'd be my 'thing' either," she confessed. "Tell me more about your program."

So, I did. I explained my classes, and what the progression would be, and why it appealed. I even shared that it was because of my choice of program and my interest in politics that my internship had been arranged.

That conversation got us through the rest of our entrees, but after we ordered coffee and dessert, Beverly asked. "Zoe… you know part of the reason I asked to see you was on Data's behalf, but you seem to be going out of your way to avoid mentioning him. Is everything okay with you two?"

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, then opened them. "Truth?" I asked.

"Hey, I'm a doctor. You can't shock me." She said it in a teasing tone, but she meant it also.

"We're good," I said. "I mean, unless something's changed with him, but considering the gift basket he sent last week for our anniversary…"

"Anniversary?"

"Two-year anniversary of our first non-platonic kiss. I mean… at the time I was sure it was only to get the tongue stud to release, but… it was more. For both of us." I hadn't shared that with anyone except Deanna and Mom, and I was a little afraid of the doctor's reaction.

"Well," she said with real warmth, "happy anniversary. But you were telling me why you've been avoiding mentioning Data."

"I didn't want to be one of those women who can't have a conversation without mentioning her partner." I took a beat. "I don't know who Data talks to, aside from Geordi. I mean, about the details of our relationship. And you all work with him, so I feel like… I mean… I couldn't talk about it with my friends when we were first shifting toward a romantic relationship because he was our teacher, and he was my mother's boss, and… God, I miss him. We send brief messages almost every day. We talk over subspace once a week, but I still miss him. I feel like… I'm the same age as my suitemates, but at the same time I feel so much older."

"Oh, Zoe. I'm sorry. I should have reached out to you sooner. We all… Data's such a special person, and I think we all root for him to be successful in his career and in his personal life, and we've watched the two of you first as friends and then as more, and he's really blossomed… but it didn't occur to us that you didn't have enough support."

"I have my friends _now_ , but it's still weird for them. Wes came to my grandparents' place in Niantic over Labor Day and even he was awkward, seeing us together." I ducked my head as I admitted. "We've been talking about marriage… did you know?"

"You and Data? Zoe, that's _wonderful!"_

I lifted my head, surprised. That was not the reaction I'd expected. "You don't think I'm too young?"

She lifted her coffee cup to her lips and took a sip, obviously considering. "No," she said. "You _are_ young, but with everything you've been through in the last two years – you alone, and the two of you together – I can't imagine that waiting would do any good. And Data is over the moon for you, you know that, right?"

My smile was a fond one. "I know. I love him, too. When we were at the house on Terlina III he said he was waiting for me to be ready for him to propose. I asked him to give me this semester… I guess… I'm afraid of my life being totally subsumed by his. Or I was…. And now I feel like if I even talk about him I'm some hopeless case who can't function without her… partner."

"It was like that with Jack and me," she said softly. "He was command track all the way, and I wanted to be a doctor. I was still in my residency when we had Wes… I miss him, Zoe, every day, but if I'm honest with myself, I have to admit that if he'd lived we might not have made it, or I might have let my career become secondary to his."

I didn't have a response for that. I think we both knew there was nothing I could say that would carry any meaning.

Still, when the check had been paid, and the doctor had walked with me back to campus – she'd parked her rental flitter in the guest lot – I turned to her and gave her an impulsive hug. "Thank you," I said, "for dinner and for talking to me, and for not making fun of how pathetic I am."

Her arms came around me, squeezing, then releasing. "You're not pathetic, Zoe. You're a young woman in love with a Starfleet officer. Separation is going to be part of your life – it's already been a big part of your relationship – but it's not a sign of weakness to admit you miss him. He misses you."

I nodded. "Yeah. I guess. It just feels different this time. Data says I have to stop seeing this as four years and just take it one stretch at a time."

"He's pretty wise."

"Well, he has wise friends; I'm sure that helps."

"So, now I have a favor to ask you," Beverly said. "Two really. One… this weekend or next, visit your mother. And while you're there, go have lunch or a coffee with Wes. He's allowed to invite you to campus if he can't get a pass, and he misses the _Enterprise_ and his friends there as much as you do."

I nodded. "It's because for us, that ship is home in a way no place on Earth can ever be."

"Look who's pretty wise herself," the doctor teased. "Alright. Go study. Or call Data and assure him we didn't plot to overthrow the universe."

"Well… not _this_ time," I said. "Maybe we could do lunch when I come home for Christmas?"

"I'd love that."

And she stepped away from the door and triggered her comm-badge.

I waited for the last shimmer of the transporter beam to die away, and then I went back to my room.

 **(=A=)**

 **Stardate 46747.81**

 **(Tuesday, 30 September 2369, 10:52 PM local time)**

 **Yale University, New Haven, CT, Earth**

By the end of September, I'd fallen into a routine. Fallon, Marco, and I usually went to The New Moon after our Friday movement class. Anjali and I went to brunch together on Sundays, and then I went to the pool. Sometimes she came with me, sometimes she didn't, but it was nice to have swimming back in my routine.

My cello was basically an art piece, though. I'd considered playing it on more than one occasion, but I was so out of practice after being away from it most of the summer, that I was reluctant to inflict it on my suitemates, and it didn't help that I'd received a file from Data a couple of days after Dr. Crusher's visit. It was a recording of a concert in Ten-Forward, of him playing Chopin's Trio in G Minor with a pianist I didn't recognize, and an ensign I'd seen around but couldn't place.

Their performance was lovely, but the piece was one Data and I had been rehearsing – with the computer playing the piano part for us – before I left, and as much as I enjoyed hearing him play, I was hurt and jealous that he'd performed our piece with other people. I'm ashamed to admit that I was petty enough to avoid returning his calls for several days, but when we finally talked I was calm enough to explain my feelings in a way he could understand.

 _"Do you wish me to discontinue playing music, Zoe?"_ he'd asked, and I had a sudden realization of the power he'd given me. If I'd said 'yes,' he would have complied.

"No, of course not. I'm just… homesick and lonely for you, and…"

 _"And despite the fact that you are forming social connections, and have settled into your classes, you are not feeding your creative needs,"_ he finished for me.

"No," I said. "I'm not."

 _"Why not?"_

"I don't know… auditions for the next play aren't 'til next week. I'm not a music major so I feel weird about approaching any of the music groups…"

Data had been silent for several seconds after my list of reasons. Then, in his gentlest tone, he said, _"Zoe, dearest, I believe that you are 'making excuses.' Typically, you do this when you are worried, or when you are afraid. I have never known you to display a lack of courage, therefore I can only conclude that you are worried about something. Please tell me, so I can… help?"_

But I didn't _know_ why I wasn't seeking out opportunities, and I told him so. "I'm just… not ready."

 _"Would it help if I made a formal request of you?"_ he asked. _"Will you add an hour of practice time to your schedule this week? Perhaps the act of playing will help clarify your thoughts."_

I sighed, but as usual, Data was right, and it wouldn't hurt anything to grant his request. "I promise," I said. "I will."

 _"Very well. Please contact me whenever you wish, Zoe. I cannot offer support if you do not speak to me, and when you avoid me, it is… distressing."_

I closed my eyes against the knowledge that – even though he wasn't calling it so – I'd hurt him. "I'm sorry," I said, meeting his eyes once more. "I just… miss you."

 _"I miss you also, Zoe. And I love you."_

That, at least, made me smile. "I love you too."

I lifted my hand to the monitor, and he met it with his. Then he gave a single sharp nod, and said, _"Data out."_

The connection closed, and I stared at the blank screen for a long moment, then contacted my mother. It was three hours earlier in San Francisco, so I knew she'd be home and awake.

 _"Zoificus! To what do I owe the pleasure?"_ That was my mother: the perfect blend of affection and passive aggression.

"Sorry, Mom, I know I've been incommunicado. Listen, Family Weekend is this weekend… I sent you email about it."

 _"You did,"_ she admitted. _"Did you want us to come?"_

"I did, but now I'm wondering if I could come visit you instead? I mean, you don't need a special weekend to visit me, and I'd love it if you did." I took a breath, and admitted, "And I kind of need some parental coddling right now."

My mother's smiling face gave me almost as much reassurance as any look I ever got from Data. _"Of course, honey. Do you need to arrange a rental flitter?"_

"No… I… " One of the things about having registered our domestic partnership with Starfleet was that I had access to some of Data's privileges. One of them was transporter access on Earth, though that was meant for emergencies. The other was a discounted rate at different rental agencies. "I can handle it."

 _"Of course, you can,"_ Mom said. _"So, when will we see you?"_

"Friday night? In time for dinner?"

 _"Alright, kiddo. I love you."_

"Love you too, Mom."

And I cut the signal, and then went to the bathroom to brush my teeth so I could go to bed. It was early for me, but I had to find time to practice the next day. After all, I'd promised Data that I would.

* * *

 **Notes:** Whiskers' opening lecture is adapted from published class notes from "Mind: Brief Introduction to the Philosophy of AI" from the University of Liverpool in the UK. Zoe's Body in Motion class is based on similar movement classes that use the work of Rudolf Laban, creator of Laban Movement Analysis, as their core. Some such classes are theoretical; some are practical. Zoe's will be a mix of both, but more of the latter than the former. Pralketh is my own creation (Not all Vulcans have S-names or T'-names. Really.). Kahless is, of course, legendary. Dan Curry is the stunt coordinator who created the Klingon martial art Mok'Bara, which is basically a sped-up, harsher version of Tai Chi Chuan. "Boola, Boola," is a Yale cheer. Durfee Hall is a freshman dorm on Old Campus (like Welch, where Zoe is.) and Durfee's is currently a campus convenience store, but it should be noted that my version of Yale is not an exact match to contemporary Yale. Similarly, my New Haven isn't an exact match for the real city, though Claire's and Shell and Bone are real restaurants that exist today. Thanks to **Javanyet** for providing the name of The New Moon. This chapter spans the episodes, "Starship Mine," "Lessons," and "The Chase," though the latter isn't mentioned. (Assume it's classified and can't be discussed on an open channel.)


End file.
